To the Moon and Back
by fandomhive
Summary: Yao Wang is a shy and socially awkward student. He never expected to meet, let alone fall for the mysterious and enigmatic Ivan Braginski, a Russian astronomer with his eyes in the sky and his head in the stars. Rochu FanFiction with various side stories.
1. Chapter 1

**Thankyou to Conraz for the brilliant suggestion to start my first chapter!**

**Reviews would be completely appreciated, thank-you for reading~**

"Get_ out of my country, NOW."_

"You say it like you bloody represent America."

"Shut up, _chink."_

Alfred swung for Yao, his fist clumsily knocking into the teen's stomach. He doubled over, his back sliding across the toilet walls in defeat. Tears rolled down his cheeks when the boy left, and Yao proceeded to lock himself into the cubicle, sobbing softly. Today was a normal day.  
_I can't believe this. I'm seventeen, for god's sake.  
_Not a day passed by without Alfred preying on Yao and his cousin Kiku; for nothing other than their ethnicities. They'd been in Clayton College for 5 days now, and before even completing the week they'd fallen prey to racist bullies – who just so happened to be the most popular students in school.

Yao didn't want to move. The feeling of dreading to leave his comfort zone was all too familiar, and he assured himself that he'd much rather prefer to sit in the faded blue cubicle for an hour or two than have to face Alfred again – but he had two more lessons to go, with two teachers that he hadn't met yet.  
Sighing, he reluctantly stood to his feet and stepped out of the toilets, wiping his cheeks with the corner of his sleeve.

"Crying?" spoke a voice.  
Yao froze. He didn't recognise the voice and there was something…_odd_ about the tone. He warily turned around, but he couldn't see anybody. Shrugging it off as his imagination, he splashed some cold water on his face to freshen up, feeling a little more aware now.  
"_Hello?"_ called the voice.  
Yao scowled. "Who is it?" he yelped, obviously irritated.

The adjacent cubicle door opened and out stood a man who looked a little too old to be there in the first place. He wore a white sweater and black pants paired with a stylish beige blazer and scarf on top. He had cadaverous skin and ivory hair which fluttered about his shoulders. His eyes were violet and glittered with interest. "Ivan." The man replied in a heavily Russian accent. "And you're Yao." He grinned.

Yao felt completely taken aback and a little underdressed in comparison. "R-right. Have we met before, or something?"  
"Nyet."  
"So how do you know my name?"  
The man paused. "You're going to be late for class…" he commented, pulling a pocket watch from his blazer. "10 minutes late." He tutted.  
Yao felt completely bewildered and didn't even bother to ask questions. This student was _weird.  
_

The next lesson was English. Yao hoped that Mr. Kirkland would be the kind and understanding type, and perhaps could be fed a lie or two about his lateness. When he entered the room, he was coldly greeted to a rather small man with blonde hair and thick eyebrows, sipping a cup of tea with a scowl on his face._ "He was always late on principle, his principle being that punctuality is the thief of time." _He quoted, not raising his head from the newspaper that he was reading. "Yao Wang, before you sit down, may you tell me who spoke these infamous words?"

_Oh no. _  
"Uh, W-William Shakespeare, sir? Aru." He stuttered, blushing at his nervous habit.  
The man laughed darkly and the students quickly took the opportunity to copy.  
"No, '_aru_'." he gestured towards the class. "Anyone?"  
Alfred's hand shot up. "Oscar Wilde, dad?"  
"Well done! Yao, sit next to Alfred. Perhaps you can learn a thing or two from him."  
_Great. Just my luck. Alfred is Arthur's kid._

Anxiously he pulled a chair beside the boy, feeling his cheeks quickly grow hot and red.  
He vowed to dread Fridays.

The lesson passed painfully slowly, with Arthur occasionally snapping questions upon him, those of which he knew the boy could never answer. The class took great pleasure in seeing the new student squirm in his seat and fluster in embarrassment, being sure to make hurtful comments every now and again. Mr. Kirkland made no attempt to stop these, of course.  
He seemed just as much of a bully as they did.

Yao scuttled from the classroom as fast as he could when the bell rang. It took all of his strength not to cry this time. He shakily stared down at his class timetable through blurry, tear filled eyes.  
His last lesson was Astronomy. He smiled slightly to himself with the knowledge that this was his one chosen subject. He was told by Kiku (who had taken the class earlier in the week) that it was brilliant, and the classes tended to be small. _Perfect._

He opened the door, greeted to a darkened room. It was midnight blue, and the ceiling was decorated with glow in the dark constellation patterns, and a few lamps in the corner. There was only one person there.  
Yao smiled nervously at him. "Waiting for the teacher, I-van?"  
There was a pause and Russian simply smiled. "_I'm_ the teacher!"


	2. Chapter 2

Yao merely blinked, his eyes wide and his mouth opened slightly in disbelief.  
Ivan looked the exact opposite of a teacher. He was too…_pampered looking,_ too young and too fashionable. Plus, he'd been hanging around the boy's toilets that afternoon…

"I don't believe you, aru."  
The Russian brushed off this comment and thrust his name tag in Yao's face. "You mustn't recognise me because I'm new here, da?"  
"O-Oh…I'm new too. I've recently moved here from China."  
"Really? I came here from Russia!" Ivan's face fell slightly. "But it is not what I thought it would be like here."  
Ivan's outward nature confused Yao slightly. Nevertheless, he took his seat at the front and watched as the other students began to leak into the room, filling any empty spaces. Thankfully Alfred wasn't there.

Ivan stood to the front and began to write his name on the board. "Hello, my name is ." he spoke. His tone had changed slightly; it was more sensible and stern from the friendly chiming voice that Yao had heard before. Ivan began taking the register, calling out names without looking up.  
"Gilbert Beilschmidt?" he spoke, but there was no answer. At that moment Gilbert burst in, whistling cheerfully. He took his seat without apologising for being at least 10 minutes absent. Ivan seemed to prickle with anger. "Gilbert Beilschmidt?" he repeated calmly, standing to his feet.

"Yeah and who are you, fag?" the German boy smirked up at Ivan, thinking he was another new kid to bully, just like Yao.  
"I'm your new teacher." Spoke Ivan coldly. "And I'd very much prefer if you stood up and said such a thing to me."  
There was silence as Gilbert shrank into his seat, his cheeks a rosy red.  
"Go on." Urged Ivan, a smirk on his face. "Or are you scared of a _fag _like me?"

The class fell silent. Never before had they had a teacher who reacted this way. Usually students could laugh in the face of a shouting teacher, but it appeared that Ivan wasn't going to stoop to that level. He was calm, collected and utterly terrifying. Yao's large brown eyes widened further and he began to play with his hair to counter his anxiety. Ivan seemed to positively radiate fear.

"Exactly what I thought." Sneered Ivan, scowling at Gilbert. If there was one thing he hated, it was disrespectful bullies. And _homophobes,_ at that.  
"Anyway!" spoke Ivan brightly. "Back to lesson. Any questions?"

*.*.*.*.*

Yao shuddered as the class finished just as quickly as it started. He dreaded the end of the day, because it was so simple for Alfred to corner him then. He took extra care in packing his bag, trying to consume as much time as possible. Every other student had left, leaving just him and Ivan.

"You were very good today, Yao." Commented Ivan casually as he rifled through his papers.  
"W-Was I? I don't think I did well, aru." Mumbled Yao, embarrassed. It was in his nature to put himself down considering pretty much everyone else did to him.  
"I-I mean, I was struggling all throughout and-"  
Ivan cut him off, a cheerful smile on his face. "You did brilliantly. You work so fast!" he raised his eyebrows, pointing to Yao's bag. "But you pack for home so slowly. Is something stopping you from going home?"

Yao blushed brightly. "N-No! Aru." He insisted. "Just a couple of guys I don't get along with..."  
Ivan raised his head. His violet eyes were wide with curiosity and the slightest bit of worry. "Bullies?" he asked softly.  
Yao paused, thinking of Alfred, Gilbert and Ludwig. "Yes." He whispered.  
Ivan stood to his feet, smiling a little at the huge height difference. "Tell me if they lay a single finger on you, okay? I will crush them to pieces." His tone was bright.

Yao turned pale. "R-Right…" he mumbled, backing away. "I think I'm going to…go home now…"

Yao decided he was terrified of his new teacher.


	3. Chapter 3

Yao sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The coast appeared to be clear – to his knowledge, Alfred and his friends spent the remainder of their day standing behind the school and smoking. His mind was buzzing with thoughts; all centred around Ivan. He didn't trust the man at all. For one, he didn't even _look _like a teacher, and he certainly didn't act like one. The way he treated Gilbert was simply plain terrifying. He didn't glare or shout, he was simply calm and collected. He spoke to Gilbert like an equal – _an equal enemy. _

Shuddering, Yao pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he exited the building and put his earphones in. Lost in the music, Yao didn't even notice the figures following behind him as he made his way home. It appeared Kiku had left long before him, meaning that Yao would have to do the 30 minute walk to their house all alone. Suddenly, he sneezed, stopping in his tracks. To his surprise his heels fell back on something hard – and as he turned around, that oh-so-familiar blonde was standing with a smirk on his face. Before Yao could say anything or even try to run away, Alfred yanked hard on his neat ponytail of hair, dragging him closer.  
Blinking back tears, Yao whimpered, prepared for a hit. That was until Gilbert suddenly tapped Alfred on the shoulder to show him something on his phone. Yao took his opportunity to escape, darting out into the road and in front of a car. It screeched to a halt, and the boys fled, fearing that Yao was hurt.

Yao panted, feeling as though all of the wind had been knocked from his chest. It was Ivan who stepped out of the car, his eyes wide as he stared at the small figure draped in long, dark hair that had ran in front of his car.  
"Miss?" he asked worriedly before scooping up Yao and moving the hair to get a better look at his face. "O-Oh! Hello…Yao!"  
"I'm not a girl." He replied bluntly before scowling slightly once the situation settled in. "You almost killed me!"  
Ivan chuckled weakly, setting Yao back down onto his feet. "I'm sorry, little Yao. But why did you run out onto the road?"  
Yao paused before looking at where Alfred and Gilbert were. They were long gone.  
"N-No reason. I really need to go now or I'll be late home…"

The Russian dusted himself down before he crossed his arms. "Nyet! I'll drive you home. It's the least that I can do."  
Yao chewed his lip uncertainly. To go from one dangerous situation to a potential other…certainly wasn't something he'd usually do. Still, it was better than having to walk home in the dishevelled state that he was. "Fine." He sighed before stepping in to the car. He gulped as he caught sight of the smooth white interior, leather seats and tinted windows. "You have a very….nice looking car."

Ivan chuckled as he began to drive. "Thank you, Yao. I'd have never of had something like this when I lived in Russia. At least he was right about the job opportunities in America…" he shook his head. "I'm talking too much. My apologies, Yao."  
The Chinese boy felt a little more at ease now. It appeared that Ivan was the same as he was when they first met – a lot warmer and friendlier than in the classroom beforehand.  
"It's okay…" he murmured, searching his pockets for a bobble. "H-Hey, Mr. Braginski? Do you have an elastic band that I could borrow?"  
Ivan chuckled as they reached the traffic lights. A flood of primary school children were using the crossing, meaning that the Russian had to stop for a second.  
"Please, call me Ivan." He smiled. "And no, I do not have an elastic band. I don't understand why you'd want to scrape your hair back, it looks beautiful down." He reached out, softly pulling a strand and inspecting it in his hands. It was like brown silk. Yao felt his cheeks quickly growing hot and pulled away, uncomfortable.  
"It makes me look like a woman." He muttered, pushing it out of reach and away from his face.

The rest of the drive was silent until Ivan eventually pulled up at Yao's home. The boy smiled weakly, still a little in shock from beforehand.  
"Goodbye Yao. See you next week, da?"  
Yao nodded hesitantly. "Goodbye…" _Please, call me Ivan. _"Goodbye Mr. Braginski!" he squeaked before rushing into his home, not turning back once he'd heard the tyres pull away from his road.

*.*.*.*

Kiku lifted his eyes from the television screen where he was playing a video game. His brothers and sisters were all playing in the garden with his father, and his mother was cooking in the kitchen…which meant that _he _had to answer the door. He sighed a little before standing to his feet, knowing that it would probably be Yao. He felt a little guilty leaving his brother on the walk home, but Yao was late and he didn't want to hang around in fear of being cornered by the bullies.

Once he opened the door, his heart sank. Yao's hair was down – something which his brother _never did,_ and he was bright pink in the face.  
"Yao!" he cried, worried for his safety. "What happened? Who hurt you?"

_Well first I was about to be beaten up until I ran out into the road and almost got ran over by Mr. Braginski. Then he drove me home even though he's a teacher and that's against the rules. He also mistook me for a woman and played with my hair on the drive back._

"Nothing!" spoke Yao with a smile as he wandered into the living room. "Hey, are you playing this?"  
Kiku nodded, not quite wanting to let go of the subject. He calmed down a little bit as he joined his brother in playing once Yao's hair was tied back once more.


	4. Chapter 4

"Kiku! Kiku! Yao! Ya-ooooo! Move…over!" complained Yong-Soo. The small Korean boy found himself trapped between his older adoptive brothers, unable to move.  
Kiku grunted, rolling onto his side and burying his face in the pillow, murmuring something about it being his own fault for insisting they share a bed. Nightmares or not, he deserved to be squashed for awaking his brothers and forcing them to sleep elsewhere. Yao couldn't help but smile a little at this as he pulled himself from the covers. Kiku was incredibly polite and respectful, almost to the point of stiflingly so, to anybody but his own family – he was a lot more relaxed and could show his true colours there.

The Chinese boy yawned as he left his brother's room, making his way down the corridor of their house until he reached his own. It was large enough, and rather simple; a lamp and desk laden with homework, a few decorative scrolls, his wardrobe, dresser and mirror, and a double bed with red sheets. He stretched, rubbing his back after a long night of being sandwiched between his nightmare-prone little brother and Kiku. Sometimes, even though he was only seventeen, Yao felt like an old man. He sighed, pulling the wardrobe doors open and reaching for some clothes to wear. Once dressed, he sat down on his bed, looking in the mirror.

His thoughts flickered back to Friday, when Ivan had touched and complimented his hair. The thought sent shivers down his spine; and he wasn't sure whether this was out of flattery or pure shock. Yao paused before rolling his eyes at the reflection and pulling his hair into a bobble. He checked his watch; it was already half past seven. Yao ran down the hallway to his brother, to remind him that it was Monday morning – a school day.

*.*.*.*.*

"So…What lessons do you have today?" asked Kiku as the two strolled to school. It was a nice walk; there was a lot of greenery and sun on the trip that made the 30 minutes more bearable. It was just the destination that the two hated.  
Yao raised his eyebrows. "Don't you remember? It's double Mathematics!" he spoke happily, thrusting his planner into Kiku's face. The Japanese boy immediately shook his head before turning a page that Yao had not thought to check before.  
"It's a two week timetable. And you have…._English." _he spoke grimly, remembering Yao's complaints about the class, and in particular, the father-son duo.

Yao sighed as his eyes flickered over this unfamiliar side of his timetable, until he noticed that he had two hours of Astronomy afterwards. His heart beat a little faster, and he wasn't sure why.

*.*.*.*.*

"Hey, _chink!"_ shouted Alfred as he approached Yao, kicking him to the floor. Yao winced in pain. He didn't think to look out for himself once Kiku had left. He wiped the thin trail of blood from his nose, pulling himself up to his feet.  
"What?" he mumbled, blinking back tears of pain.  
"Nothing in particular. I just fucking hate you." Laughed the American, punching Yao once more.  
_  
Note to self: Never take the shortcut behind the school, ever again._

Matters were only made worse when Gilbert appeared, laughing at Yao's beaten body.  
"Pathetic little shit. Come on, Al."  
With that, the two left. Yao lay sprawled on the floor for a short while, contemplating just going home and leaving. But what would his parents think? He sighed, standing to his feet, unaware that somebody had seen exactly what happened.

*.*.*.*.*

"…Nothing beside remains round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare. The lone and level sands stretch far away."  
Yao pressed his ear to the door, listening to the smooth speaking voice reciting a poem. Had Mr. Kirkland not been such a biased man, he would have made a wonderful teacher. He spoke with elegance and passion about both the English language and literature. The Chinese boy sighed before opening the door, knowing that this would be another day late to the lesson.

"Sit down!" barked Arthur, the urgency making Yao jump a little. Three rows of students turned from their captivation to glare at the boy.  
"Sorry, aru." Mumbled Yao as he sat quickly down in his seat.

"I'll continue, considering I was so _rudely interrupted." _Arthur hissed as his poisonous gaze returned to the poetry book which he was reading from.  
Yao supressed a little frown. The lesson passed as it usually did, until a strange looking woman entered the room. She was slender and blonde, sporting a rather dull looking dress and a bow in her hair. She almost looked like Arthur in a way. She tipped her head to the side, eyes full of disinterest and spoke on a monotone voice. "Brother wants to speak to you."

Yao wondered who the Brother could be. Perhaps Arthur and this woman were related? The Brit nodded slowly, and Yao couldn't help but note that he looked a little frightened.  
"Right. Tell him I'll meet him in the staff room after this lesson. Thank you Natalia." Spoke Arthur, with an odd nod of the head. With that the woman simply left, not speaking another word.

Yao decided that after Natalia left, Mr. Kirkland was a lot quieter and more bearable for the remainder of the lesson.

*.*.*.*.*

Shouting filled the Astronomy room. Balled pieces of paper were thrown, and gum was spat across the desks. Yao shuddered as he moved to his seat; Ivan was late to his lesson, so the students were wreaking havoc. Gilbert especially, who even had the nerve to play around with his lighter and singe the tips of his work book.  
_Where is he? _Thought Yao. _Not that I care. I just want this shouting to stop!  
_Suddenly Ivan burst in, looking angrier than ever. The room silenced – the sea of students retreated to their own seats, not daring to speak a word. Some even scrambled to tidy their mess.

That lesson was one of the most awkward experiences of Yao's life. Ivan was completely silent, boiling with rage. It even concerned him a little bit. Once the hour had passed and break started, the Chinese boy decided to stay in the classroom. It was a double lesson; he would only have to come back anyway.

He sat in his seat, absentmindedly gnawing at a pencil as he drew. He didn't expect Ivan to speak, let alone approach him from behind and look at his paper.  
"A panda, da?" he spoke softly. "I like pandas."  
Yao froze in shock, quickly covering the paper with his sleeve. "Oh! Me too, I guess…"  
Ivan smiled warmly, pulling a chair up beside the boy. "I can see that. What else do you like?"  
The Chinese boy frowned. What kind of a question was that? "I-I don't understand…that's really vague for a question, you know?"  
Ivan simply grinned, nodding. "I suppose so. I'm sorry for confusing you, little Yao."

"Mr. Braginski?"  
"Da?"  
"Why were you so angry before?"  
The Russian tensed up a little, his heart beating a little faster. If only he could tell Yao the truth.  
"Nyet, I wasn't angry. I had a headache."  
Yao gulped. He knew that something was wrong, that Ivan was lying. But he couldn't wonder why. So he simply returned to sketching his pandas, refusing to pry in any further. This was not his business.


	5. Chapter 5

Ivan's Perspective.

"What do you mean, _irresponsible parent?"_ hissed Arthur, his thick eyebrows furrowing. "You don't have a fucking clue, Braginski."  
The Russian stepped back a little bit to avoid flaring with anger. He spoke calmly, his gaze never wavering.  
"I caught your son beating another boy senseless in broad daylight, Arthur. That must account for something. Or are you in denial? Or worse, are you _encouraging_ it?"  
Arthur snorted, rolling his green eyes before he took a few steps back. Those words were a blow to his mood.  
"It must have been somebody else. Alfred wouldn't do that, and you know it. You've known the kid long enough!"

Ivan pulled his chair back, standing up. He remained silent for a few minutes as he thought back. Whenever he came to visit his boyfriend Arthur and the family, Alfred and his brother Matthew were always there. Matthew was a little angel. Throughout the years he was quiet and calm, he never spoke back and he welcomed Ivan into his life quite easily. But Alfred….Alfred was _different_. It was easy to tell that he didn't like Ivan – and to his parent's embarrassment, the child made no attempt to play nice and keep quiet.  
Things had only gotten worse for him after Matthew…

"Alfred Jones is entirely capable of it, and you know that. It's my job to report such a thing, but because you are a _friend, _I'll let it slip. But I'm not happy about it. The child is one of _my _students."  
For a moment the English teacher stopped before changing tactics.  
"Boys will be boys. Let him do his thing, right? He isn't really hurting anyone, he's only a teen. It's that Chinese lad, isn't it?" he scoffed before smirking and stepping closer towards Ivan. "And Ivan, you and I are more than just _friends…" _purred the Brit.  
Ivan suddenly prickled with anger. "Not any more, Kirkland." He spoke coldly. "I couldn't possibly relate to anybody who'd treat a student like that, let alone a parent-teacher who'd allow it."

With that the Russian turned and walked away, positively seething. He didn't_ want _Arthur. He was a bully in himself, silently picking at all of the things Ivan did. The man had moved to _America_ for him, for goodness sake. Wasn't that enough for some respect? He growled as he pushed his way into the Astronomy room, glaring at each and every face that stared back blankly, gum in their mouths and screwed up paper in their hands. Ivan didn't have to say a thing for them to immediately stop and sit forward.

All except Yao – who was already sitting there, patiently waiting. It brought a smile to Ivan's face, one so small that it couldn't be seen. As Ivan went through the work, barely speaking and allowing the students to work at their own place, he shot a glance at Yao every now and again.

As the lesson ended, Ivan was secretly thrilled that Yao stayed behind – but it didn't change his cold posterior. What did, however, was what he noticed Yao was drawing. He strolled over to the Chinese boy, craning over his shoulder. He couldn't help but break into another smile.

"A panda, da? I like pandas."  
The boy beneath him squirmed a little in his seat, covering the picture. "Oh! Me too, I guess…" he murmured.  
The teacher sat down beside him to get another view; and he couldn't help but note how beautiful Yao could draw. He was like an artist as he worked away, the strokes with his pencil elegant even if he wasn't fully concentrating.  
"Why were you so angry before?" asked Yao suddenly.  
The words shocked Ivan a little bit – he wasn't expecting concern from his usually shy student. He wished that he could tell Yao everything – the bullying he saw, him and Arthur's conversation and break up, and his plans with Alfred. But he couldn't.

"Nyet, I wasn't angry. I had a headache." He lied, mouth twitching slightly. "Yao?"  
"Yes?" spoke the boy, looking up to Ivan with the big brown eyes of his.  
Ivan placed an arm around Yao's shoulder gently, ignoring the fact that he squirmed at the contact.  
"I saw what happened today." He said softly.  
Yao stiffened, shaking the arm away. "I don't know what you mean."  
"Yao…if you need to speak to somebody, you can speak to me. I'm here for you. Da? I won't pry any more, but I need to speak to Alfred about it. I won't press things further. You can go now."

The Chinese boy stood up. He paused for a second before an unsure smile appeared on his lips. "Thank….you." he murmured before rushing out of the room.

*.*.*.*.*

"Alfred Jones, come in here."  
The American pushed the door open, sighing heavily.  
"What, Ivan?" he complained, eyes not quite meeting his. He didn't like this man; he never had. He was too big, too intimidating. What's worse, he and Matthew got on really well, especially towards the end.  
_Ivan stole the time from him and his brother._

The Russian stood to his feet, shrugging off his coat. "Sit down." He ordered in monotone.  
"Right."  
Alfred strolled towards a desk, sitting cross legged on the table. This caused the teacher's eyes to narrow as he spoke.  
"What is your relation with Wang Yao?"  
Alfred frowned slightly. "Why are you arsed? I suppose he's alright." He huffed a little, crossing his arms.

"It's just….I saw you _hitting_ the boy. Not just once, either. You do realise that you could get in a lot of trouble for that sort of thing? And I have a feeling that this isn't the first time you've done this to him." Ivan's voice was getting louder and angrier by each carefully spoken word.  
Alfred shifted uncomfortably. Why was Ivan so protective over him?  
"Fuck off, old man." He hissed as he hopped from the table and strolled away.

During his exit he caught the sight of Yao, carefully placing his folders in his locker.  
"Come here…" he growled slamming the Chinese boy into the wall. "_You fucking told."  
_"W-What?! No I didn't! I haven't said a thing, aru, I swear!"  
"I don't believe you. just told me what happened. You're fucking weird. It's like you're _obsessed with _him or something. Gil said that the two of you practically eye-fuck eachother every time in class. I even saw you get into his car." He smirked, his face smug as he hit Yao in the stomach.

He watched with glee as the boy fell to his knees, wincing in pain.  
"I don't…like him in that way." He murmured, eyes shut tight.  
"I don't give a shit. I have enough evidence to say that if I want to. You say _one more word,_ and I'll tell the school that you're shagging that teacher. Everyone will believe me, and you know it. Nobody would trust a freak like you." He laughed coldly as he walked away.

Yao brought his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly as tears started to spill from his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred's POV.

_Everyone will believe me, and you know it. Nobody would trust a freak like you._

In perspective, that may have been harsh. But Yao needs to know his place; beneath me, beneath everybody in the ranks. And if he cries, than it's his own weakness, because Yao is nothing but a spoilt little child. And how do I know this? It's simple. He has his own little life, as sad and boring as it may be. He has a family that gives a flying shit about his existence, and not about papers and teabags and screwing other guys. He has not one, but three brothers.

See my point?

So walking to football practice with my damn schoolbag hitting my ankles with each step I take, I know that I'm not sorry at all. I have no reason to be. Yao may not be top on the team, pulling girls left right and centre, but that bastard has stability and I fucking hate it.  
I fucking hate Yao Wang and his perfect little family.

*.*.*.*.*

Arthur's head rose from his newspaper, pulling a teacup from his lips and placing it into the coffee table beside him. It was late evening, and as a key turned in the door he knew that Alfred was home. He stood to his feet, straightening his tie and heading straight to the oven where his son's dinner lay.

"Dad?" called the American, swinging the door open and collapsing onto the chair where his father had been quite peacefully sitting. Arthur frowned lightly, deliberately placing the meal on the opposite side of the table and waiting patiently for the boy to move. Alfred eventually did, not speaking a word until he was face to face with the steak and chips that Arthur had tried his best to prepare. Not wanting to upset his father and point out the charcoal colouring of his food, he started to eat.  
"Nice day?" he asked finally, though he wasn't completely interested. Something was bugging him and he wasn't completely sure why.  
"Not particularly. It's been bloody awful, and it's Ivan's fault."  
Alfred grasped his fork a little tighter. "Why?"

There was a long pause in which Arthur contemplated telling his son the truth, or settling for a white lie to avoid hurting Alfred's feelings – or worse, angering him.  
"Work. He's decided to end things because of…work. He was a bastard anyway. I don't know what I saw in him."

_Well, it must have been something. You were together with him for ten years. Even if it was on and off. Ten years is a long time.  
_  
A murmur of 'oh' was all that his son could really speak. Feeling the atmosphere grow tense he pulled out his phone, typing away to Gilbert and avoiding conversation with Arthur.

"Hey, can you pass me the towel, Mattie? I've spilt my tea…" chuckled Arthur, but he soon froze. His green eyes became wide with worry as he noticed the signs of another outburst.  
The air lay silent for a few minutes as Alfred began to feel weak at the knees.  
"You did it again, Dad." He whispered, his voice rising by the word. "You…you called me…"  
Within seconds the plate was smashed to the floor, cutlery spattering across the table as Alfred reeled back, pushing the chair behind him with a quick jab of his foot. He glared at his father; breath hitched and tears beginning to form in his eyes.  
Arthur briskly moved out of reach. This was the worst possible situation he could have been in. Why, oh _why _did he have to make these mistakes?

"Now, Alfred, it's a simple mistake…" He began, but his voice was quickly cut through by his son's voice, desperate and pained.  
"_No it isn't!" _growled Alfred, fists clenched. "There's a fucking difference! _He's dead and I'm alive!"_

"You're right." Whispered Arthur eventually, as he lay on the floor. His face was quickly beginning to bruise from the impact of a sudden punch; but he knew that he'd brought it upon himself.  
Alfred and Matthew Jones were two entirely different people. And Alfred was the only son left.

*.*.*.*.*

"It's a nice evening, isn't it brother?" remarked Xiao, swinging her feet on the bench inside their garden. Yao rolled his eyes, turning to face the Taiwanese girl with a small smile on his lips.  
"I'm shocked that you could say such a thing, considering your face is far too buried in that book which you're reading to enjoy the moon and stars…"

To this the girl merely chuckled, lifting her head and tipping it forward to get a better view. With night creeping upon the pair, it was becoming harder to read in the dark as the sky was quickly melting into an inky black. A dim glow was provided from the many stars that scattered across the landscape, but the moon was truly something to marvel at. It was a white orb, eerie and transfixing and the exact shade of Ivan's hair… Yao shook the thoughts away. What was he thinking? He was just being silly. It was simply because Mr. Braginski was his teacher. He remembered what Ivan had once said to the class about stars.

"Hey Xiao, did you know that a portion of the stars that we see in the sky are already dead or dying?"  
The girl paused, her brow furrowing as she tried to imagine such an obscene fact.  
"I don't understand!" she spoke, exasperated. Xiao hated not being able to comprehend information, even if she was only twelve years old.

"Well, light takes a while to reach us from such long distances. In fact, it could take hundreds, thousands, _millions _of years for us to see what that star looks like, right at this very moment. In that time, it could have already died – but we wouldn't see that, of course, because it would still be there until the light reached us." He smiled, happy that he could have taught his little sister something.  
Xiao was captivated by this new information, and dropped the book into her lap completely to scrutinise the stars.  
"Who told you?" she demanded, eager to know.  
Yao paused, a light blush on his cheeks. "Just some teacher."

*.*.*.*.*

"_I saw you looking up at the stars last night. Did you think of me, Yao?"  
"Yes."  
"I thought of you, too."_

A pale hand reached out and clasped Yao's. He proceeded to lace his fingers between Ivan's, smiling up shyly at the man. Then, his teacher leant down and pressed a kiss to his lips and Yao simply melted into it, pulling himself closer because Ivan was just so…

"_Yao!"_ shouted Yong Soo, shaking his older brother to wake him up. The Chinese boy shot from the covers, his eyes flying open. It had been another dream.  
"IM! I was sleeping!" he complained, raising his hands to stroke his tired face as he shifted in the covers.  
The younger boy sighed, sticking out his upper lip in indigence.  
"It's half past seven! Kiku told me to wake you up…don't shoot the messenger…"  
With that Yong Soo left, skittering down the polished hallway with his blue school bag in hand. Yao groaned before pulling himself from the safety of his bed, gazing in his reflection. There was a light bruise that spread from his pale jawline to lower left cheek, probably from Alfred's attack the day before.  
He wondered why Alfred had such a problem with him when the American had a perfect life.  
Why would he feel the need to bully others?

After a breakfast with Kiku and a stroll in the sunshine, Yao wandered into his first lesson.  
He enjoyed Mathematics, and the lesson was bearable considering Alfred sat at the back of the class – to make things even better, he wasn't in today. Relieved, Yao sat himself down and worked his way through his papers until he was approached by the teacher at the end of the hour.

Though he hadn't entirely given it much thought at first, it was hard to ignore Miss Irina Katyusha's large breasts in the tight white dress as the Chinese boy was faced with them. He glanced up nervously, a little uncomfortable with her closeness. Despite this, he still pitied the woman; she was seen as an erotic object among the hushed whispers of sex-starved teenage boys and the subject of many urban legends throughout the school, though she couldn't help her figure.

"Yao, may I speak to you for a moment?" she asked politely, a bright smile on her face.  
The boy nodded. "Yes, Miss, of course. Is it something…bad?"  
Irina shook her head happily as she returned to her desk, tucking a strand of short blonde hair behind one ear.  
"Ne! Something very good! You see, I've been looking at your test scores from this past week and I couldn't help but notice how good you really are at Maths. It's a real talent that you have and I've been meaning to invite you to onto our annual Maths Challenge team. It is National, so we will be traveling and staying overnight. You'll have to ask my brother for the details, but the two of you are close enough to ask, right?"

A confused expression crossed Yao's face. "Your…brother? I didn't know that you had one! I'd love to join! So, who is on the Maths team?"  
Irina produced a sheet from her desk, studying the names. "Sadiq Adnan, Berwald Oxenstierna, Lovino Vargas, Tino Väinämöinen and Alfred F Jones. You have heard of those boys, right? Some of those aren't in your specific classes, but a bright young boy like you must have plenty of friends!"  
She smiled once more in a bid to be friendly, but it sent a shiver of worry down Yao's spine.

"I've heard of Alfred." He spoke simply before he nodded.  
Why live in fear when he could just be brave?  
"I'll join."  
Irina broke into a grin as she scribbled down Yao's name. "Brother is right. You really are a very polite boy! Just remember that it pays to be assertive sometimes too, right?"

She waved the boy goodbye, sighing as he scuttled from the room. Ivan hadn't been lying when he said that Yao was a very beautiful but cripplingly shy teenager.

Le Author's Note~!

_I want to thank everybody for the favourites, follows and reviews so far! They motivates me to write and it makes me truly happy when I see them! I appreciate each and every one of them. It took me a while to update because of the fact that I've been so busy this past few weeks  
(it's no excuse but it's not like anybody cares!D: )  
Anyway, I hate to drawl on so in conclusion…._

_Thankyou for all being so fabulous and taking an interest in this story._

_Comments and constructive criticism make me super happy._

_Feel free to recommend anything which you would like to see happen next as I am totally open to ideas._


	7. Chapter 7

Yao gazed down at his meal, picking and chewing at the steamed dumplings absent-mindedly. Miss Katyusha's words were still ringing in his ears and the Chinese boy was now having serious doubts about his decision. He felt as though somebody had played a cruel trick on him – who would have known that Alfred was good at mathematics? He certainly didn't show his skills, or an interest at all in the work.  
Then again, a book should never be judged by its cover, just as his father said.

Lost in his thoughts, Yao was snapped back into reality at the sound of his little brother's voice. He lifted his head, greeted to a pair of inquisitive dark eyes and soy-sauce stained lips that were moving ten to the dozen with the words that were spilling from them.

"So? Did you sleep well?" spoke Yong-Soo, a smug grin tugging at corners of his mouth.  
"Hm?" replied the Yao as he took another sip of his green tea. He almost spat it out onto the table as his brother spoke the next words.  
"…Because you were talking to somebody in your sleep!"

All of the colour drained from Yao's face as the family turned to him, grinning. All but Kiku, who just gazed at him as though he was about to speak.  
Yao remained silent, waiting for his heart rate to slow down before he dropped his fork back onto the plate.

"Don't get excited, aru." He spoke, as smoothly as he could. "Because I don't remember such a thing. It must have been nobody."  
"You kept saying some name! Something…what was it…Bran…something…" Yong-Soo thought long and hard – but luckily, his young mind couldn't remember it.  
"You were saying it, though!" he insisted.

Yao stood to his feet, glaring at the boy in an attempt to offset his obvious blush.  
"Aiyah! I didn't say anything at all in my sleep, aru! You liar!"  
With that, he stormed up the stairs and crawled under the covers, still a little shaken up from the inquisition.

It took ten minutes for Kiku to build up the courage to enter his brother's room. Not once in his life had he seen such an outburst from Yao, and that both confused and worried him. He opened the door and made his way to Yao's bed, sitting gingerly on the plush, red covers and gazing sympathetically at the heap.  
"It's me." He spoke, patting where Yao was curled up.  
Yao stayed silent for a little while. Eventually he spoke, the words a little shaky with embarrassment.  
"Yong Soo was just…messing around, aru. I wasn't really saying anything."

Kiku nodded slowly. "Well, I don't know anybody who goes by the name of 'Bran'."  
He spoke before standing to his feet. "But I do know when something is wrong. I am your brother after all, I can tell these things. Plus…you're an awful liar." He laughed softly before turning to leave.  
"…You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Yao nodded, leaving his brother no choice but to leave him alone for a little while; for it was clear that it was needed. What pained him however was the fact that he didn't even know what was wrong with him.

*.*.*.*.*

"RIGHT EVERYBODY, LISTEN TO MY HERO VOICE!" ordered Alfred as he waved his arms at the Astronomy class. The sea of heads turned to him; the majority were happy that he was back in school.

Alfred Jones – top in everything. He was particularly handsome and healthy, athletically trained with styled blonde hair and the sort of blue eyes that would make even the coldest of females soften up considerably. He had good grades and was friends with everybody who he decided that he had the time for. Being Alfred Jones meant that if he was going to spend a day crying at home over his brother like a child, he'd have to bounce back twice as hard.

"I'm having a party tonight, so you better free yourself up or else! The booze is on me, and so is the food! So turn up, every single one of you! If you don't…you'll have to face the consequences!" he spoke, feeling a rush of pride at the excitement on everybody's faces.

That was the moment that Yao shyly opened the door. His heart sank when he saw Alfred at the front of the class, terrified that he was going to embarrass him because there was no teacher there. But Alfred didn't. Inside, he considered letting Yao off a little. Just while Braginski was close by, so that he didn't get in trouble. He simply shot the Chinese a glare before speaking a little louder.  
"I want everybody in this class to come to my party. Hear that? _Everybody."_

Yao lifted his head at this, shocked to see that the class was staring eagerly at him, expecting an answer. Out of sheer shame, the boy nodded his head before sinking into his desk. He was grateful when Ivan entered and practically shoved Alfred out of his chair, making his way up to the board and wiping away the boy's contact details.

"I'm guessing that you wrote this, Jones?" he spoke, one eyebrow raised.  
"Hell yeah!" replied the American smugly as he folded his arms together.  
"Right. Well make sure that you behave. I'm guessing that Arthur won't be in? Don't do anything stupid. Now get to your own class!" ordered Ivan, pointing towards the door.

Yao's eyes widened. How unusual! Since when did Ivan know Alfred and Arthur? Could it be that they were friends? He shook the thought away. _Of course not!_

The lesson passed fairly slowly. It was bearable, because Ivan kept closer towards the front today, meaning that Gilbert couldn't whisper any harsh words, and nobody could throw things at him. Yao was grateful for the discreet protection that his teacher offered. Once his paper was finished, Yao lifted his eyes up from the sheet and quickly wished he hadn't. Ivan had removed his scarf and coat, revealing a tight black sweater that clung to every inch of his chest. He was already looking at Yao, and the boy swore that he could see a smirk….but no, that wouldn't have happened! He shook his head before lifting his hand.

"Yes, Yao?" spoke the teacher smoothly.  
"I…finished my work, aru."  
"Ah! Very good! Now let me see…I'll mark it now, da?"

Suddenly, the bell rang, signalling the end of class. Yao was the only student who'd completed his work – Mr. Braginski didn't expect even him to have finished the paper on Nuclear Fusion. He motioned for Yao to come over as the other students left the room.

"You needed to see me?" he spoke quietly.  
Ivan nodded, eyes glazing over the work. "This is brilliant, Yao. You are a very talented young man. But what I wanted to say is to make sure that you stay safe this evening. I'm sure that you were invited to Alfred's little gathering, hm?"

This earned a nervous nod from Yao, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable so close to the Russian.  
"Shi."  
"I understand that social protocol dictates that you must go. If you want to; by all means do so. I'm your teacher and you must understand that I have no desire to run your personal life. However, I am very interested in your safety, da? So if you _do go…_remember to be safe."

Yao nodded quickly. He still wasn't used to his teacher's protective nature, as he was pretty sure that he didn't act in the same way for other students.

"I am going, aru. I'll show Alfred that I am no coward."

Ivan sighed, placing a hand on his student's shoulder. This act elicited a light blush from Yao, who quickly looked away as he spoke.

"You are not a coward."

*.*.*.*.*

"Is this a bad idea?" asked Kiku with a shaky laugh. The thought of going to a party was one thing, but it was even worse to stare at the large house that was shining with lights and blasting with music. It didn't help matters that the home belonged to the very boy that bullied them daily.  
"I'm sure that it will be fine, aru. Just stick with me!" spoke Yao as he flung an arm over his brother and strolled confidently towards the door.

Despite this, he knew that Kiku was right. A lot of bad things could, and probably would happen that evening, and it was not a pleasant thought to dwell on. He sighed in relief when it was not Alfred who answered the door, but a drunken Feliciano. The Italian boy was one of the few nice people in the school; however, he was the sort who was friendly to everybody.

"Kiku, Yao! You made it! Ve~! Come inside! Everybody is very drunk!" with that, he wriggled his way through the hallways with the nervous pair following behind. They tried their best to follow him and not knock into the groups of teenagers who were either smoking, kissing or singing loudly, and eventually ended up into the living room where Feliciano had guided them.

"Hey, Yao, Kiku!" slurred Alfred, patting the floor beside himself. "Look, I'm sorry about everything, okay? Let's forget it all…sit here…" he murmured as he finished his beer and reached for another.  
"Just relax with me and the guys! We'll show you a good time!"

Like frightened rabbits the brothers followed, joining them on the floor. Ludwig and Gilbert lay sprawled on the sofa, swigging beer like it was water with Feliciano crammed between them, sipping cheerily at his drink. His brother Lovino was scowling and muttering to himself angrily about sitting on the floor whilst his friend Antonio was chiding him into singing Spanish love songs.  
Surprisingly, it was more laid back than the entirety of the party.

After Alfred had passed him a drink, Yao loosened up considerably, as did his brother. After a few beers they were all chatting happily to Alfred as if nothing bad had happened at all. Yao stood to his feet rather shakily, unable to properly handle his first time being drunk.

"I..don't feel good." He murmured quietly, a little dizzy.  
Alfred stood to his feet and held out his arms for Yao to prevent him from falling – he was always kind when drunk. He chuckled a little at the boy's reaction to alcohol.

"You look like you're seeing stars!" he spoke softly.

Yao didn't know where he was, or who was holding him up. But at the mention of stars, he immediately concluded that it was Ivan. Who else could it have possibly been, anyway?  
The Chinese boy gazed up at Alfred warmly.  
"A-Always talking…about s-stars….aren't you…" he slurred.  
Alfred raised an eyebrow, a little confused. "Uh, no?"  
"Yes…yes you a-are, aru. Come here, I want to kiss..you…"

Yao was brought to his senses as his face hit the floor, distraught at the sight of the others spluttering with laughter at him. It was then that he realised where he was. Lying in the pile of sick which he had spontaneously produced after Alfred shoved his face into the ground, calling him a disgusting queer. He had to get out of there, and fast. He ignored his brother as he palmed his way through the other people, desperately holding onto the banister as he approached the door. He was grateful at the cold night, sobering him up a little. His senses were still blurred however, and he was finding it hard to see.

Hard to walk.  
Hard to make his way across the road without…  
He hit the floor again before a squeal of tires ground to a halt and Ivan sprung from the car. He sighed, tapping his foot. It was a good job that he came to check up on things.

"I really wish that our out-of-school encounters wouldn't always involve me running you over, you know?" sighed the Russian, holding out a hand.  
Yao rolled onto his back, greeted to the sight of his teacher. It was just like in his dreams – the moonlight was illuminating him perfectly, causing the ivory hair to shine as it spilled onto his shoulders. And that smile, the playful half-smirk…it was better than anything that his brain could ever have thought of.

Yao reached out to grasp Ivan's hand, calm and happy and….throwing up again. All over his shirt.

*.*.*.*.*

"You're lucky I always wear a shirt underneath, da?" laughed the Russian as he removed his jumper once they were in the safety of his car.  
"Here." He tossed it to Yao, who barely just caught it. The effects of alcohol were beginning to wear off and it was becoming apparent just what situation he was in.

In a car with the teacher that he was so desperately attracted to.

However, that wasn't the worst part. Alfred…he'd mistaken Alfred for Ivan, and tried to kiss him…and everybody knew. Even his brother. He shuddered, knowing that life was going to be one hundred times worse for him now. He didn't want people thinking that he was…._gay! _

"You need to get cleaned up." Spoke Ivan suddenly, as he parked the car outside a coffee shop. "You're lucky this place is still open at…" he checked his clock. "…_half past one_. Just go inside and get yourself clean, okay?"

Yao nodded and shakily made his way to the bathroom.  
Splashing his face with cold water, he realised just how awful he must have looked. His skin was pale, his eyes were wide and dark with the effects of alcohol still lingering in his appearance. His hair was half hanging out, and his clothes were dishevelled. Tying his hair back into the tight ponytail, Yao gazed down at his teacher's jumper. Would it be weird if he put it on? He supposed not, considering Ivan told him to wear it. Yao removed his own shirt and replaced it with Ivan's, which was much too big, even if it was tight on the teacher. It smelled wonderful, like sunflowers and vanilla. Yao buried his face into it before quickly pulling away, thinking that he must have looked strange.

He was surprised to see that Ivan was not waiting outside the bathroom. He was in fact, sitting in one of the ornate armchairs, sipping at a coffee. He wriggled his fingers to show Yao where he was, but the Chinese boy had already spotted him.  
"I ordered you iced water and sponge cake. Coffee is not good for people who are drinking, and you need something to line your stomach. Da?"  
The boy nodded shyly, averting his eyes.  
"I'll pay you back! I'm s-so sorry that you've gone to such trouble. You're probably going to be r-really annoyed…" he stuttered.  
"Nyet. Just disappointed."

Yao felt a pang of guilt. "Why?" he asked, though he was sure that he knew the answer.  
_ "Because I'd much rather we did this under different circumstances."_

His eyes widened, had they not already been huge under the influence of his drinking.  
"What did you just say?"

But Ivan merely raised an eyebrow as though he hadn't spoken at all.  
"Nothing. You must be hearing things, Yao."

*.*.*.*.*

Le Author's Note~!

_*Dramatic drumroll*_

Yeah, I'm not too sure what to say about this chapter, apart from the fact that it's three times longer than the usual! My regular chapters are always around 700 words…this is about 2600.  
Anyway, thank you so much to everybody has read this story so far. Seriously. You guys are just…the best. I hope to bring more fluffy Rochu into your lives asap.

_Also if you have any questions about the story revolving around the rating (subject to change) future plotlines and anything of the sort, feel free to either leave a comment or PM me. (I swear that I'm not a nasty pasty)_

Anyway, that's all for now! I'll try my best to update within the week!


	8. Chapter 8

Yao ate his cake in silence, eyes not leaving the pink-willow plate. The sponge slice dusted with sugar was soft and airy, the icing and jam positively melted on his tongue. It felt so good to fill his stomach with something, _anything,_ just to cease the emptiness. However, Yao sensed an unnerving tension and glanced up at Ivan to ask if he was okay. But as soon as their eyes met, another question rose to his mind.

"I've….disappointed you Mr. Braginski, haven't I?"

Ivan's violet eyes widened a fraction, but he remained composed, lips barely leaving his cup as he spoke.  
"Nyet. You are seventeen years old, Yao. It would be foolish of me to have thought that you'd go to Jones' gathering and come out sober. From my experience, people seem to get drunk just from stepping over the household."

Yao would have laughed had it not been cut off by the familiar, sinking sensation in his chest.  
"That's what I wanted to ask you. Are you and Mr. Kirkland friends?"

There was a long silence. Ivan wanted to explain to Yao that it was once much more, and that had changed due to him and his…feelings, but he knew that he couldn't do such a thing. It would put his job on the line if Yao didn't feel the same way, and even if he did. Some things had to be kept to oneself.

"I should take you home now, Yao." He spoke stiffly.  
The Chinese boy felt a wave of embarrassment. _He must have really annoyed Ivan…_  
"I'm so sorry, aru. I don't want to trouble you! I can make my own way home and just-"  
"Don't be silly. Of course I will take you home; that doesn't trouble me and all and I am more than happy to help. It's just….a situation like this is highly unprofessional."

Yao tipped his head to the side. Was it? He wasn't completely aware of the rules and regulations of seeing pupils outside of the classroom. Besides, Ivan was just helping his student out after catching him in such a state.

"How so?" he asked quietly.  
"Regardless of the circumstances, no teacher should ever be taking their student out on a 1am coffee jaunt whilst he speaks about his personal life."  
"Oh."

Yao felt worse than ever as he was taken from the little café, still blushing and stumbling over his feet. It didn't help matters when he personally noted that Ivan drove him home quite quickly, lips pressed tightly together and eyes focusing solely on the road. He couldn't help but feel rotten. How could Ivan be so sweet and…dare he say…_romantic, _and then completely cold and professional the next? Yao shook his head. He was being stupid. It was just the alcohol, littering his mind with childish thoughts that wouldn't matter the next day…

…Though Yao knew that they would.

"I'll walk you to the door."

Yao's dark eyes grew wide.  
"Y-You don't need to do that, aru…." He mumbled to himself, already opening the car door. He was sick of this night and he wanted it over. He didn't want Ivan messing around with his head and his heart in the most subtle of ways.

"You can barely walk. I am taking you to the door, and that is that. Da?" insisted the Russian.

Though he hated to admit it, he couldn't help but feel guilty. He was taking advantage of Yao by sending him mixed signals, things that he couldn't even understand in or out of his alcohol induced stupor. It was cruel but….tonight would probably be the only night that Yao would ever show any emotion towards Ivan. What other opportunities would there be? None. It was the perfect chance to try a few things out and gouge a reaction.

"Mr. Bra-…" protested Yao as he noticed his teacher stepping from the car to follow him. He blushed wildly as Ivan's hand wrapped around his, gently guiding him to the door. Ivan had barely finished knocking before it swung open, revealing Kiku.

"Yao! Yao! You're okay…thank god. Where have you been?! How did you get home? Who-"  
An uneasy silence quickly filled the air as he noticed who was standing behind his brother.

"Mr. Braginski?" he asked weakly.  
The Russian nodded with a small smile. "I happened to be in the neighbourhood when I came across Yao. He was in somewhat of a state, so I volunteered to help him home. Take care of him, da? I'll be seeing you next week."

With that, he left as if nothing had happened.

*.*.*.*.*

Yao couldn't believe that he was doing this. With a _teacher,_ nonetheless. But there he was; lips pressing against Ivan's mouth, hands on smooth, burning skin as the two touched eachother in the most intimate of ways. Hitched breath melted into a passionate kiss as Yao was lifted into the Russian's lap, fingers tracing across his chest before he-

"Explain yourself." Spoke Kiku, yanking the covers from Yao in a bid to wake him up.  
The Chinese boy instantly scrambled onto his stomach, face buried in his pillows. He had a searing headache and felt emptier than ever.  
"Explain what?" he mumbled.

Kiku leaned forward to pluck at the material that draped over Yao's otherwise bare chest.  
"Explain this. Why you're wearing Mr. Braginski's clothes. Why he took you home. Why you…_tried to kiss Alfred last night."_

The first inquiries were nothing compared to the humiliation of Kiku's last words. Memories of the night before came flooding back to him. The beating, the raucous laughter, the harsh names that rang in his ears… The whole school would know by now. What weak social life that he had was essentially over. And yet, amidst the worrying things that could and would happen… All that Yao could think about was what Ivan's reaction would be.

"Leave me alone, please."

Kiku sighed softly, sitting down beside his brother and rolling him onto his back so that they stared face to face. Yao looked so drained and tired, dressed in only Ivan's long white jumper with his hair spilling out across the pillow. He resembled a sulking little girl who'd been woken far too early in the morning.

"If you _really _want to know, I was sick, aru. All over my chest. Ivan lent me his spare jumper, okay? Please…just let me sleep."  
"If you don't tell me I'll tell mother and father when they come home that you got really dr-"  
"Leave me alone."

The Japanese boy merely nodded. He understood how awful Yao must have felt; given the events of last night. Though he had his own worries about his brother, he knew that bombarding him with questions wasn't going to help anything. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that his brother wasn't telling him the full story.

*.*.*.*

_Le Author's note!_

This chapter isn't as long as I initially planned it to be; however I believe that it will be easier to focus on the events in separate chapters. The next one will feature what happens when Yao returns to school after the disaster at Alfred's party. Once again, thank you so much for all of the reviews and comments so far! They mean ever so much to me.

_x_


	9. Chapter 9

The Braginski home - to much inconvinence - was situated far away from Clayton College. It belonged to 3 individuals who happened to be family; if their looks didn't give it away enough. The first, and eldest, was Katyusha Braginski, a Maths teacher. She sported short blonde hair, a tendancy to cry paired with a completely natural figure that could usually only be achieved through relentless plastic surgery. She was not pleased about it, however, but simply couldn't afford any breast reduction due to her current economic affairs from moving countries.

Her sister Natalia told her that she shouldn't complain. She was the youngest; a melancholy woman who had recently turned twenty and was studying as a teacher. She was thin and had long hair that fell over pale skin. Her eyes were big, but often half lidded with disinterest. She rarely spoke - her words were often sharp-tongued and cold, but she couldn't help it. She saved the fond talk for her big brother Ivan.

Ivan Braginski was the middle child. He adored his two sisters - though he was rather frightened of Natalia and her uncharacteristic dependency on him. He was in a long-distance relationship with a man named Arthur, who found a perfect job offer for him and his siblings which would allow all three of them to work in the same area. Ivan had a big heart - a heart that tended to love too much, and too fast - but he often used it for the happiness of others.

One Monday morning, the three individuals found themselves eating a rather rushed breakfast before they set off for work.

"He said yes." spoke Katyusha suddenly, a wide smile on her face. "I forgot to tell you!"  
Natalia's bored eyes flickered up from the newspaper. "Hmm?"  
The eldest shook her head, nudging Ivan. "Vanya! He said yes! Isn't that lovely?"  
Natalia's gaze was sharp enough to spot the light blush that dusted her brother's cheeks. She immediately stood up from the table, slamming her hands onto the counter in a quick-tempered rage.

"Who said yes? Brother, what aren't you telling me? Are you seeing somebody else? I thought that you just broke up with Arthur, for goodness sake! I-"

"Calm down, Nati." Ivan's words were instant, causing the young woman to sink back into her seat with a rather sour, embarrassed expression. The Russian turned to his sister, a giving her a small smile.

"Da, that is very nice. I'm sure that Yao will do very well. Perhaps he will put the school into a good light - he is very talented from what I've seen, anyway."

"And from what I've seen, too!" Katyusha spoke eagerly. "One of the smartest in his class! God only knows how popular he must be with the girls, bless him!"

Natalia scoffed from the other end of the table. She kept her face buried in the newspaper, pushing the curtain of blonde hair from her eyes.  
"He won't be popular at all, Kat. That isn't how schools work. Not in America, anyway. The students here don't seem to be liked if they favour books over fuc-"

"Natalia." warned Ivan, narrowing his eyes.

He knew that it was the painful truth, but Katyusha was always so blissfully unaware of things and he refused to let that be spoiled. He also didn't like to picture Yao with a girl, either, though he knew that his thoughts were absurd and very unprofessional indeed.

*.*.*.*.*.*

At 6am each morning, Wang Yao would jump from the covers to dress and wash himself.  
At 6:30 am each morning, he would cook a large breakfast for his brothers and sisters.  
At 7am each morning, he would pack his bag for school in preparation for the upcoming day.  
_This was not one of those days._

"Yao! Yao! Y-a-o!" a certain Taiwanese girl began to squeak in her brother's ear. The words rang again and again, making Yao shrivel further into the covers with a groan.  
Xiao pouted, throwing herself onto the covers in a bid to wake her older brother and force him from his slumber. Eventually, Yao responded with a light mewl, shaking himself free of the girl and sitting up in the duvet. When faced with a questioning look, Yao simply shook his head and coughed feebly.

"I'm not going in today." He mumbled. "I'm sick."  
Xiao frowned lightly. It was always so easy to tell when Yao was lying – and this seemed like one of those times. But he did have a face paler than usual, and tired, red eyes. Could he be telling the truth?  
"And you should really get off my bed, too…" he continued. "It's crumpling your uniform all up! Look, come here."

He pulled his little sister closer, straightening her skirt and tightening the bows in her long, dark hair. Xiao laughed appreciatively, forgetting her previous concerns, and left the room afterwards.  
Yao heaved a sigh of relief. It looked like he got away with it. Perhaps he wouldn't even have to tell his parents that he was staying off…they usually left Kiku and Yao to leave when they were ready. Maybe they already thought that he'd left? That would be ideal. It would save any explaining…

No such luck.

It only took a few minutes for Sakura to enter the room, busy as ever. She looked down at her adopted son with a small, sympathetic sigh, bundling her hair into a clip with one hand and buttoning up her coat with the other. The woman chewed her lip as she tilted her head to the side, studying Yao's face.  
"Well…you don't look like you're feeling very well. Do you have a temperature? Here, let me check." The woman smiled, reaching out to touch Yao's forehead and see if he had any sort of illness. Yao recoiled, shrinking further into the covers.

"N-No! Look, I'm just feeling sick, okay?" the Chinese boy murmured – rather unconvincingly.  
A worried look passed Sakura's face as she took a step back. Was something wrong with her son that he wasn't telling her? Yao had been so uptight recently.

She sat down on the bed lightly, stroking his hair.  
"I hope that the party went well this weekend. I know that your father and I promised to be home earlier…but you know how it is with work. You're a good boy, anyway. You and Kiku always take the best care of your brothers and sisters, better than a babysitter ever could." Sakura smiled a little, standing to her feet.

"You're also a very healthy boy, too. And I'm sure that at seventeen years of age, a simple cold won't prevent you from receiving an education. So come on, get up! Kiku will wait until you're ready to leave, okay? I have to go now, love. I'm sorry. I'll pick you up some herbal tea to make you feel better. Goodbye!" she pressed a brief kiss to her son's cheek before leaving.

*.*.*.*.*.*

The weekend could not have passed quicker – and Yao hated it. Each day felt like an hour, each hour a minute. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the large iron gates and hanging onto the straps of his backpack for dear life. Kiku noted his brother's fear and offered him a weak smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Yao knew that today was going to be even worse than the others. He could hear the beginnings of laughter and feel the eyes all over him, knowing that he was the centerpiece of many harsh glares and what would eventually turn into bullying.

"Ki-ku! Yao!" squealed a voice.

Yao's head immediately whipped around just in time to almost be sent to the floor with the impact of a spontaneous hug. Before he knew it, there was a smiling, bright haired Italian chatting away happily atop of him, so quickly that Yao could barely understand what he was saying.

"…And anyway, I've only ever drank wine with Grandpa and my big brother! They were all drinking this strong stuff that smelt really nasty!" Feliciano wrinkled his nose. "So I was really dizzy and tired! I would have helped you, I promise I would, but I didn't even know what was going on, si? I'm so sorry! Are we still friends?"

Yao tried to regain some form of reality. Just what was Feliciano playing at? They'd hardly ever spoken before! He winced a little, rolling over from beneath the Italian.

"Feliciano…we weren't even friends in the first place!" he grunted.

Unfazed, the boy shook the russet red hair from his eyes and grinned, clasping his face to his hands in happiness.  
"So we are friends now?" he squealed.

Kiku watched with one raised eyebrow and couldn't help but laugh softly. When Yao had left the party on Friday, he and Feliciano had already established a half-drunken friendship – something which the Italian had started just as spontaneously with him, too – and it was safe to say that he was a nice person. Over-excitable, dependent and naïve; but a nice person nonetheless. It was just a shame who he spent the most of his time with.

Finally, Yao managed to free himself from Feliciano with a nod.  
"Yes. We are friends now. Okay?" he chuckled, standing to his feet.  
At last... wasn't alone anymore. Even if everybody else was against him, he had his brother and Feliciano. Maybe if he didn't even have Ivan, he had somebody.

...But he really did have to stop thinking about that stupid Russian teacher.

*.*.*.*.*.*

"And then he said that I was always talking about stars! I mean, _what the hell_, right? We don't even talk! The little shit totally came on to me, and I swear I felt his hand on my dick. It was weird, man. He could've raped me or something!"

Yao froze as he heard the words, spoken very deliberately by a certain American. He felt himself grow weak with sheer humiliation, wanting nothing more to escape from the door he just opened. The class surrounding Alfred turned to Yao and remained silent. Eventually, one by one, they began to react. Some people pointed and laughed, others smirked. The worst reactions of all however, were the pitiful, patronising expressions worn by the girls, shaking their heads. Yao just wanted to die at that moment.

What made it worse was when Alfred simply turned back and continued with the full knowledge that Yao was sitting nearby, silently begging for the teacher to return to class.

"...And then he fucking kissed me! Can you believe it? I'm not some _sick, gay freak_! Seriously, only a creep like Yao would do such a thing." Alfred deliberately raised his voice as he spoke; only coming to an abrupt halt when the teacher finally entered.

*.*.*.*.*

A disaster. An utter disaster. Yao ended up fleeing from the classroom with the quick excuse that he felt sick - and it was true. He felt sick to the very bottom of his stomach. He didn't want to go to this school anymore. He didn't want to even be in this country anymore. He'd worked so hard, being the perfect brother and babysitter and student...and for what?

There was a shuffling in the bathroom, causing Yao's head to rise from his hands. His memory flashed back to that first day of school; where he saw his mysterious new teacher Ivan simply appear from the cubicle beside him, acting as though it was completely normal. With a sliver of hope, the crying boy slowly opened his door.

Only to be greeted with a swift punch to the face, causing him to fall back instantly and hit his head on the cold, hard tiles.

"_You freak!"_ yelled Alfred, shaking his fist with the impact. "Come on then! Fight me, if you want to touch me so fucking badly!"

Yao quivered, shaking his head. "No!" he mewled, tears beginning to form in his eyes. He backed away as much as he could until he was pressed up against the toilet, bleeding and crying with his eyes shut tight, not even wanting to know what would happen next.

But no fight came. Nothing. Yao's eyes remained shut tight until he finally heard quiet whispering. He opened one eye, just to notice Gilbert holding a trembling Alfred back, placing an arm around his shoulder and silently leading him away as though nothing had happened.

Though Yao didn't quite catch the conversation, he could have sworn that he heard the name "_Matthew."_

*.*.*.*

_Le Author's note!  
_  
Yay! I'm finally back on FanFiction! Well, I was never 'off' it, really. I just didn't have the time to update or answer any messages…which really isn't good because I've had so many Fic ideas!  
Two for Hetalia, and one for Free! Iwatobi Swim Club (I simply couldn't resist.)  
Though this story is my priority at the moment, I will be uploading the new ones pretty soon, and making changes to Sunflower Syndrome (which I am _not _happy about, I feel that it completely lost its plot after a while, so I will be taking down and rebuilding parts, possibly adding a time skip). Anyway, I want to thank everybody for the reviews, favourites, follows and general views that this has! I am extremely flattered and hope that you enjoy the story.


	10. Chapter 10

WARNNG: Scenarios depicting sex. (non-explicit)

"_You freak!"_  
Alfred's words broke the otherwise silent air.  
"Come on then! Fight me, if you want to touch me _so fucking badly!"_

Gilbert watched in the background, his lips tightly pressed into a line. He parted his mouth to speak but simply couldn't; it was too much to see Alfred on the brink of another outburst. What was he to do? He winced when he saw Alfred's fist connect with Yao's face. Not on Yao's behalf, however. He was feeling pity for _Alfred. _He'd spotted the signs throughout the day and was expecting something like this to happen…Yao just happened to fall into the target line.

First it started with the name. Gilbert was the only one who knew of course, but family was a sensitive subject to Alfred - Matthew, in particular, was the taboo word. Nobody was to speak of him, no matter how close they were to Alfred. It would never end well. Ever since he died...things just weren't the same. Matthew's name went from a thing of joy to a curse word. A reminder of how lonely his brother was without him.  
As an effect, of course, Alfred would mask his emotions. This would come out in several ways – each to an extremity. It appeared that Alfred was trying his best to mask his inner sadness in the form of taking on an obnoxious mask.

He'd had enough of watching. He refused to see Alfred destroy himself. Swiftly, he moved towards the American, taking a firm grip on the man's arm and pulling him back. Their eyes connected, blue onto burgundy and the Alfred let out the softest of sighs in response. He gave up hope, letting go. Taking a brief glance down at Yao, he allowed Gilbert to pull him away and out of the school.

Gilbert walked in front until Alfred overtook him and strode on without a single word. He knew the way things were by now. Of course he did, how could he forget? But the thing was that Alfred was the one that could. It seemed that anger and grief had hidden benefits if he looked hard enough.

In Alfred's case, anyway.

*.*.*.*.*

Yao panted, gasping for breath as he stood to his feet. _Just what had all of that been about?  
_The boy decided that he didn't want an answer, not now. It was safe to assume that Alfred had gone with Gilbert, probably not to their lessons like they should. That was a benefit, however. Alfred seemed to have a very impressionable personality, one that would rub off on others and cause them to act the same way as him. Maybe without Alfred's guidance, the other students would take it easy on him. _Maybe._

As the boy washed his face of the blood that spilled from his nose - sadly, something he'd grown very accustomed to, even quite skilled at doing quickly, he couldn't help but let his thoughts fall back to Matthew and Alfred. Who was Matthew? A cousin? A best friend? Had he moved away? _Something worse? _It was certainly something to ponder.

He pushed the sticky, blood-stained hair from his cheeks to get a better look at himself. Yes, it seemed much better now. Acceptable enough to face lessons, anyway. He wondered what he had in store next, pulling the lesson guide from his pocket. Yao was quite aware that his hands were trembling when he noticed that he had Astronomy next. _Late for Ivan._

"...And as you can see here, this is the star Polaris, otherwise known as the North Star. It is the brightest star in-"  
Mr. Braginski was silenced by the painfully loud door opening. Yao trotted inside, his anxiety clear.  
"Sit down, Yao." ordered the teacher, his voice as stern as it always was in the classroom. In fact, it was rather unsettling for it to change so much depending on where he was.

Throughout the lesson, Ivan remained with an air of professionalism around him. It was as if nothing had happened on Friday; that the two hadn't shared a late night coffee and spent hours speaking about their personal lives. Yao wasn't sure why he felt the creeping ache of jealousy in his chest, but he didn't like it one bit.

"Very well, class. You can go now. Except for Yao, I need a word with you." the Russian's tone remained cold, businesslike. What had Yao done wrong? The Chinese boy waited until the class was empty before he made his way over to the man, shaking in fear.

"Y-Yes?" he murmured solemnly. "I'm sorry that I was late, aru! I just-"  
"That wasn't what I wanted to talk about." Ivan's voice was now sufficiently softer. A quick glance into his eyes would show easily that all of the indifference had melted from his face.  
"I've been hearing a few...rumors."

*.*.*.*.*

"You and I…we….we aren't that different, are we?" murmured Alfred, his eyes not leaving the spiraled iron cage in front of him.  
A budgie flitted about in, beady eyes darting everywhere inquisitively as if it could read the situation. It was a gift from Matthew, charmingly named Gilbird. In many ways, against a flurry of unspoken "I love you"s and memories so vivid that they belonged on a screen, it was all that Gilbert had in memory of the boy.

"I lost him. _You lost him, too." _Alfred continued, his hand reaching out to trace the budgie's home. Gilbert's eye twitched. Was he hearing things correctly? For once, Alfred had acknowledged how his friend felt out loud. That even though Matthew was his brother, it wasn't just him exclusively who was left empty and alone when he was gone.  
"Yes." he replied shakily.  
"_You loved him just as much as I did, didn't you?"  
_Gilbert didn't answer that question. When his vision finally focused on the small, yellow animal inside its cage, Gilbert came to realise that his eyes were streaming with tears. He yanked his hand across his face, forcibly removing any evidence of his emotion. But it was too late; Alfred had already seen.

Alfred edged closer, one hand brushing against Gilbert's damp cheek.  
"It isn't okay to cry. Stop." he growled.  
The German wanted to laugh at Alfred's words. They were so typical of him, even in a situation like this. But still, he didn't respond.

And yet before he knew it, Alfred's lips were crushing against his. His eyes widened a fraction, taken aback and unsure. He edged back slightly, sweaty palms grasping against the carpet. A growl escaped Gilbert's throat as he shoved the blonde away.  
"What the _fuck?!" _he snarled, face heating up in anger and shame.  
Shame for feeling comforted by such a stupid action.  
"What the _fuck _was that for?"

Alfred remained silent, rubbing his chest with the impact of Gilbert's shove. He simply stared blankly back at the cage like nothing had happened. He was numb already, he didn't care.  
Gilbert scowled, fiercely wiping his lips. He felt sick, empty and wrong. But still...

"Do it again." he spoke quietly.  
Silence.  
"Did you not hear me? Do it a-"  
Gilbert was hushed once more by Alfred's mouth, stiff and unmoving against his. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to think of something, _anything _other than what he was doing. Something to ease the pain, and he was sure that Alfred was doing the same thing. He allowed himself to fall back onto the carpet, breath hitching when the American pressed his body against his.

It wasn't romance, nor was it love. There was no lust in the action, no hidden desire buried beneath the touch. They were simply seeking comfort and solace in one another in the only way that words did not have to be used. Alfred's shaky hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it within seconds. He refused to look Gilbert in the eyes and Gilbert averted his own gaze in return, ashamed as he began to undress himself.

Perhaps if he squinted, Alfred's naked body could have been mistaken for what he imagined Matthew's to be. But the curl in his hair was the wrong way, and the shine to his skin was too dark to be the pale tone of Matthew's that was so familiar. It felt all wrong to be inside of him, but it was enough to ease the pain. _Just_ enough.  
His hands reached out to stroke Alfred's thighs, though he still refused to look at the squirming American beneath him.

"N-No." whispered Alfred in monotone. "Don't touch me. You don't have to touch me."  
Gilbert nodded. He was right. Alfred had the same intentions as him. To fill the empty hole that was tearing him apart inside out at the thought of Matthew.

From below, Alfred screwed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on how it felt. The sensations in his body were dulled completely by his own anguish; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make it feel any different. In fact, he could hardly feel it at all. It didn't even shock him that he was allowing Gilbert to be inside him in such a way. He wasn't _gay. _He just didn't want to feel empty. It didn't matter that Gilbert refused to look at him, that he was murmuring 'Matthew' as he thrust inside of him. It didn't matter that his gaze didn't leave the birdcage.

None of it mattered.

Eventually Gilbert found his release, silently and shamefully as he pulled out and placed his head in his hands. He turned to his friend after a short while, searching for words that he knew he'd never be able to say. Alfred did the talking for him.

"I'm going now."

He left Gilbert alone, his heart heavy and his mind littered with thoughts of Matthew.

*.*.*.*.*

Le Author's note~!

_Firstly, a short apology! This chapter is more of a character development on Gilbert and Alfred's part. It is also not a PrUs fic. Just so that I don't confuse people, da?  
This chapter was rather hard to write. It's a little different from the others and rather risqué compared to them. I hope that it isn't too bad. I will provide warnings in the future._

_Next chapter: Upload date will probably be a week from now. There will be a lot less of Gilbert and Alfed and a lot more RoChu. I felt it necessary to capture a bit of the bullies' side of things. It will become clearer soon._

_Thankyou to everybody who reads and reviews. I am writing this story for fans of the pairing and Hetalia in general, and I will only continue to write if I know that it makes you happy, remember!:3 _

_Thanks for reading!_


	11. Chapter 11

Ivan took a deep breath, lifting his gaze from the desk.  
_Now just how was he going to put this?_  
A teacher-student conversation had proven to be much harder than Ivan had hoped, especially following the events that took place on Friday – it should also be noted that Mr. Braginski had neither spoken to nor seen Yao since that eventful night.

He stood to his full height, a rather distinct contrast in comparison to the much smaller Yao, and packed away his leather bag, folding it neatly across one shoulder.  
"It will be easier to speak of this in my office." He explained as he began to lead his nervous student from the Astronomy class and into the adjacent room. He was careful in his actions not to get too close to the boy, not to put too much pressure on his shoulders as he gently steered him into the room almost as if touching him was the wrong thing to do. Ivan supposed it was – what, with the thoughts that had been running through his mind those past few days. No matter how much he wanted to, especially with the shocking news which had come to his attention that day, Ivan could not get too close. So many questions raced through his mind by the minute, never ceasing. It began that Friday night, when the hours were melting into Saturday morning. They plagued his rest, riddling his dreams with Yao and planting a seed of thought in his mind that he'd never meant to blossom. It would be too dangerous to do so. Far, far too dangerous…. And Ivan didn't even want to _touch _on the subject matter of whether Yao was actually interested.

"Mr. Braginski?" spoke Yao, peering upwards a little nervously. Ivan was sitting at his office desk through sheer habit, and he had not given his student permission to sit down as he was so lost in his own thoughts. Ivan cleared his throat, shaking his head a little and giving a soft sigh, waving the air in front of him. Yao sat down where he believed his teacher's actions fell, directing him onto the plush cream sofa.  
"Thank you, aru." He spoke politely, earning a nod from Ivan.  
_Yao looked so…pretty sitting there. _Ivan couldn't help but succumb to the thoughts again. Surely they'd never go away. Standing from his desk, the Russian wandered aimlessly around the little room, stealing shy glances here and there.

"Tea, coffee?" he spoke, motioning to the table that was laden with various tea bags and coffee granules arranged neatly beside an electric kettle and some cups. Yao shook his head, crossing one leg over the other as he tried to get comfortable. (There were far too many cushions on the couch for his liking.) Such an innocent act immediately grabbed Ivan's attention and he was not aware that he was staring in mild awe after such an action, his eyes fixated on Yao's figure most unprofessionally. Fortunately, he didn't _seem _to notice.  
"Mr. Braginski?" Yao piped his voice up a little louder this time. Surely Ivan was just messing with him now, wasting his time.  
"I-I have to go home soon…will this be quick?"  
Ivan snapped to attention. "Oh. Da. I just need to have a word with you. I'm concerned; that is all."

The boy raised an eyebrow. He was quiet and polite by nature, but now the action motioned for him to _just get it over with!  
_Ivan cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.  
"I'm sure that you're well aware by now of the…the things that your fellow students have been saying, yes?"  
Yao let out a heavy sigh. He should have predicted this from the start. Of course Ivan knew now. Well, there was nothing that he could do about it, right?  
"I'm well aware what they're saying about me."

There was a long silence. Ivan took a deep breath. _It was now or never. He could mask it easily if Yao got the wrong – the right – impression.  
_ "Would you mind telling me if this is true or not? You do not have to say if you are uncomfortable with discussing such matters. I understand that it is entirely personal and speaking about it will not leave this room so-"  
The Chinese boy paused for a moment. Was it true? And if it was, did Ivan deserve to know?  
Just when the teacher was about to give up hope and send him on his way, Yao spoke up.  
"Yes."

Ivan was a little taken aback at Yao's change in demeanor, the sudden switch of tone in his voice from timid to firm, defiant. And then followed the familiar, comforting 'aru' that proved Yao to still be his usual, awkward self.  
Ivan chuckled softly. Nevertheless, he was quick to respond and take the chance he'd been waiting for.  
"Well that's perfectly fine, isn't it? It doesn't matter what the students think of you as long as you're comfortable with who you are. I know that I had troubles in my teenage years when I came out. It didn't quite work out the way I wanted to either. In fact, I never wanted anybody to know at all."

Yao's eyes widened significantly. "You're…" he could barely speak the words.  
Thankfully, Ivan answered for him with a comforting smile and a much softer tone to his voice than before.  
"Da."  
Yao could barely process the information. He felt overwhelming relief mixed with a sense of alarm as he noticed himself moving a little closer to Ivan without even thinking.  
"O-Oh!" that changed everything. Well...not _everything. _Ivan was still his teacher, and he was still at least 10 years his elder.  
There was a long silence. Slowly and unconsciously, Yao moved closer forward, his eyes closing slightly.

And Ivan spoke up, his tone a little strained than normal, almost panicked.  
"Right! You're dismissed now, Yao!"  
Yao's eyes snapped open, his face reddening. "What? Oh! U-Uh...Okay. Was that all that you wanted to speak to me about?"  
Another pause. Ivan's voice was softer this time. "Da. That is all."  
"Mr. Braginski, I have your sweater here…" Yao lifted the garment from his bag with shaking hands but the Russian shook his head.  
"Keep it."

When Yao disappeared, Ivan cursed himself. _Shit._ _He'd forgotten the entire basis of their chat! He was supposed to discuss the bullies, offer him some advice and help or something along the lines of that. _The Russian boiled it down to his stressful day, and not to the fact that he'd lost himself in the boy's pretty eyes.

Yao left the room with no words to say. However, he wasn't given a chance to worry and ponder over words and meanings that late afternoon as he left the school building. He was immediately spotted by Feliciano, who bounded over fresh faced and bright eyed as usual. It took seconds before the Italian had sidled up to him with that never wavering grin, defiantly taking Yao's hand and walking alongside him, swinging their linked arms as he cheerily strolled by. Yao couldn't help but be on guard. Who, of all people, could be so peppy? Even on a day like this, Feliciano shone brighter than the sun with his happy nature.

"Yao-Yao!" he eventually piped up, blinking his big eyes as he stared at the boy.  
Said boy shook his arm from Feliciano's, a little embarrassed, and returned the smile.  
"Hello. Might I ask...why you're walking with me? Don't you think it's a little..."

Yao took a quick look over his shoulder at the school yard. It was completely bare, nobody in sight. Nobody to criticize Feliciano for walking with Yao. But still, who on Earth would want to, anyway?

"...Weird? I mean, it isn't like me and you are close friends or anything."  
Feliciano's brow wrinkled in concern. He wasn't quite used to anybody shrugging off his friendly (often completely platonic, and in this case so) advances, even Ludwig. They just accepted his open nature for what it was. Yao appeared to be a little more skeptical.  
"I just wanted to talk to you, ve?"  
This earned a shy nod from the Chinese student. He walked and talked with Feliciano, eventually allowing his usually tense nature to loosen a little under the Italian's charisma.

That was, until the subject of Yao's sexuality was brought into question.  
"Yao, I didn't know that you were an _omosessuale_!" The words were spoken innocently, accompanied with a natural child-like curiosity. Still, Yao couldn't help but flinch and immediately pull back in disappointment.  
"Do you also have a problem with that, aru?"  
Feliciano's eyes widened in panic and he immediately rushed back closer.  
"No, no! Of course not! I'm sorry! So sorry! Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace!" he flung his arms in the air, waving them around frantically as he spoke. "I wanted your advice, Yao! You see, I think I'm...I think I know that I-I might be too!"

Well, that wasn't much of a shock to Yao's system.  
"I expected it, aru. Perhaps I have a lack of knowledge on how others think and feel, but your actions seemed clear enough to me." He took a deep breath. "You don't need to tell me who you're interested in. I'm pretty sure I know who. You can speak to me about it whenever you'd like, remember that. After all, you and I are now…"  
"Friends?" came a hopeful voice.  
"Yes, Feliciano." Yao smiled genuinely. "Friends."

*.*.*.*

"Calm down, mon cher." purred Francis, sliding one arm around the Brit. Arthur couldn't help but stiffen a little at the gesture. Honestly, he'd only fallen back into the Frenchman's embrace after his recent break-up with Ivan. He'd known Francis for just as long; he was the au pair for Matthew and Alfred and even taught the two of them some French. He was nice enough; a little vain and definitely on the sleazy side but Arthur decided that he could easily overlook it. After all, it paid off in the bedroom.  
Just as Arthur began to relax a little in his lover's arms, the sound of knocking broke what he'd hoped was going to be a peaceful silence. It re-awakened the man's angered thoughts instantly.

Arthur stood to his feet, shaking Francis away. With a growl he opened the front door, one hand on his hip and the other smoothing down the hair that he'd pulled each and every way in stress. He was seething with anger when he finally caught sight of Alfred's face, not sparing a thought for why his expression was so stoic and lost.  
"Where have you been?" he spoke sharply, green eyes fixated on his son's.

_How _ironic. _You're staring at me with all of your might and yet you can't even see how I feel. Come on, dad. Do it just this once. Care about me, just this one time._

"Well?" Arthur growled, slamming the door shut behind the two. "I've been waiting here for hours! You went home from school, didn't you? You've been with Gilbert, haven't you?"  
Alfred merely nodded, his face blank. He felt dazed, exhausted of emotion.

This caused Arthur to redden further in rage.  
"Your eyes are all glazed over! What the bloody hell have you been doing this time, hm? You can be such a _disgrace _to me at times! The whole school is probably laughing at me, at us _both, _now! Could you imagine it? A teacher whose son doesn't even have the attention span to stay in his lessons!"  
Alfred opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by Arthur sharp words.  
"Go." he growled lowly, pointing upwards at the stairs. "I don't want to look at you right now. Just get upstairs."

"Arthur, why don't you just calm down and-"  
"Shut _up _Francis. This is between father and son! _Though he's barely a son to me."  
_When Arthur turned back around he barely noticed that Alfred had already trailed to his room.

_Empty. _That was how he felt. Matthew had torn a hole in Alfred's heart that seemed to have grown ever since. Alfred wondered if his brother would have been jealous of the pain between his legs, of the light scent of Gilbert's aftershave on his skin. But such attention was not wanted. Not anymore, anyway. It was a spur of the moment. And, just as fleeting things go, the momentary lapse of pain and fulfillment had passed, leaving only hurt in its wake.

Suddenly, there was a ring. Alfred pulled himself from his bed, his hand lazily palming the table for his phone. He took the small device and pressed a button, holding it to his ear.

"Alfred? Have you seen my cousin?" Roderich's voice was shrill.  
"No. Why?"  
"He's not answering the phone. He isn't in his house, either. Either that or he isn't answering the door. I can't be sure. There are no lights on!"  
All reason became apparent. Alfred let out a small grunt, cursing Roderich for his over-dramatised reaction.

"Just...just leave him alone, alright?"  
"Please." scoffed he. "Don't tell me to leave my own family alone! Ludwig needs to speak to him because he has the car keys and he was supposed to be visiting Feliciano and I was supposed to be coming too and we've been trying so hard to contact him but...but I think he's ignoring us! Why would he do that? The stupid brute can be so _selfish_ at times!"  
"Fuck you."  
A long pause. "...What did you just say to me?" the Austrian's voice was significantly higher, raised in offence.  
"Just leave him alone." Alfred hit the decline button before any further drama would ensue. He could hardly handle Roderich's ways on a _good _day, let alone now. He'd had just about enough. Enough of this, enough of everything.

And yet still, he called Gilbert, reasoned with him the way he always did. Reasoned him away from a bottle, a knife. And nobody would ever know of it.

Le Author's note~!

_Finally I managed to update! It hasn't been that long since, but my updates have definitely begun to take me more time. I'm sorry about that! _

_So…finally some RoChu again, it appears! Things will finally start to happen, eventually. There will gradually become more and more Russia and China moments, pinky swear. I hope that you are all enjoying the story so far, in particular, the side story of Prussia, Canada and America. What are your thoughts? I'd love to know, as always!  
Starting from my next upload I will be responding to reviews because you really do deserve some appreciation for your kindness and interest in the story! It makes me so happy to know that people like what I write. It's what compels me to continue. Remember, reviews not only make me squeal with happiness, they help me to improve and focus on the things that you, as the reader, like best. I'm trying to come up with an update day so that I can make sure my story continues each week… I may make it a Friday. Hm. That sounds right._

_Also, I started my Free! Iwatobi Swim Club Omegaverse fanfiction now. It has one chapters so far and a prologue. I'd love for you to check it out if you like the show._

_Thanks for reading!_


	12. Chapter 12

_It was an autumn evening. The wind was howling against the windows, rain pounding against the glass in uneven, peaceful melodies. However, such tranquility was quickly broken._

"Get off! I can do it myself, you know? I ain't an idiot! Look! He's just intimidated by me!"

"Intimidated?" Matthew raised an eyebrow at Gilbert, flashing him an endearing, if not condescending look.  
"You're not very…intimidating, Gilly. Even to a budgie. Look, you do it like this."

_The young Canadian demonstrated, carefully taking a handful of seed and spilling it into his hand. He held it against the cage, watching as his beloved pet plucked away each morsel with a small, curious beak.  
Gilbert watched with glee, sticking his own hand out in indigence.  
"Give me some, ja?" he demanded, voice raising just a little too loudly for the likening of small animals. The budgie retreated in alarm, flitting to the further end of the cage._

_Matthew let out a soft sigh, taking the little paper bag and holding it into Gilbert's palm. Their hands connected for a brief second. In that moment, it felt as though a jolt of electricity had shot throughout Gilbert's veins. He inhaled sharply and quickly looked away in favour of attempting to feed Matthew's many birds again._

_Once Matthew had slowed his breathing to a calm rate once more, he leant back, smiling wisely.  
"Patience is a tree whose root is bitter, but its fruit is very sweet." He quipped. "Do you know what that means?"_

_Gilbert stared back blankly. "Don't eat roots, eat fruits?" he tried. He never understood Matthew's cryptic way of explaining things. That, paired with his quiet voice, made it almost impossible for Gilbert to comfortably converse with his best friend. _

"…_Hey, look! He's eating from my hand!"  
Matthew's eyes lit up yet his face fell. "That's brilliant, Gilly! But you should really wake up now."  
"Huh?" the boy turned to face Matthew, feeling his heart sink. Not this. Not again. Not when he had so much he needed to say to the boy. No, not now, no…  
"Wake up."_

"Gilbert!" Ludwig snapped, giving his brother a firm shake that almost caused him tumble from his bed. He cast his younger sibling a death stare, growling and sitting up.  
"What?" Gilbert spat, though he knew why Ludwig was waking him. It wasn't that he had bad intentions – he didn't want him to be late for school, after all. But it was an inconvinence. Gilbert could never predict when he was going to have another one of his cherished dreams, and they never lasted long enough.

"We were going to be late for s-"  
"Ja, ja. Ok. Don't bore me with that kind of shit. You want me to drive you to school, right?"  
Ludwig looked away, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Contrary to popular belief, he was not as old as his looks claimed him to be. He still had to heavily rely on his older brother for many things, one of which being transport. To break the uneasy silence, he gazed a little around his sibling's room.

"You've been…drinking again."  
Gilbert snorted loudly, running one hand through his mess of white hair in a feeble attempt to untangle it from the grasp of a night's uneven sleep.  
"Yeah, and what of it? It's not like we don't do it like, _all of the time, _Bruder."  
"But…" Ludwig paused, eyes flickering over the empty bottles that were laden upon his table surface. "You've been drinking _alone." _the blonde looked away quickly, unable to handle an uncomfortably sincere situation.

"Piss off, Ludwig. Of course I'm alright." Gilbert retorted gruffly. "I didn't answer the door last night because I was tired, right? If you weren't so fucking obsessed with that Italian kid and his family, then maybe my rest would have been better!"  
Ludwig narrowed his eyes as soon as Feliciano was brought into the question.  
"I hope that you're not implying anything. He's just a little kid who follows me around. I'm only being a polite guy."  
"Your actions say otherwise. And if you've forgotten, _which I'm sure you haven't, _you and him are both the same age."  
Ludwig grunted, turning away. "Just put some clothes on and get in the car."

Gilbert smirked slyly, lying back in the bed and giving a particularly sleepy yawn.  
"No, no. I don't think I'll go in today. Have a nice _walk_!" he grinned, waving his brother away and leaving Ludwig to storm out on his own.

Gilbert fell back asleep, or tried to do so, as soon as Ludwig had left the house. But it had passed; his blissful dream had left him without a trace... Just like Matthew. He tossed and turned in the covers in an attempt to fall back into his state of rest, but nothing worked. He eventually gave up and decided upon actually going to school.

He arrived at 11am, sufficiently more well-groomed due to his extra time and dressed in his best clothes. He should have felt brilliant, even better than usual, but Matthew was playing on his mind as he occasionally did. The pale-skinned boy with upwards blonde curls and big eyes refused to leave his brain. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he made his way to the Astronomy room where Mr. Braginski was already delivering his lesson.

"Beilschmidt." he spoke coldly, pointing to his chair and giving him a hard glare that signaled him to stay behind after class. "Late. Sit down."  
The boy obeyed, but not before giving his trademark snort to further rile up the teacher. Ivan rolled his eyes and diverted his attention back to the class.

"Today's work is based on your previous lesson. For those who cannot remember, it was a research on famous Astronomers through history and the groundbreaking discoveries they made. If you would like to use your notes, you are more than welcome." Ivan smiled brightly, slinging one end of his scarf over his shoulder as he spoke.  
"We will start with Shi Shen, the Chinese astronomer who was the first to observe solar phenomena and, in particular, sun spots. Now, we all know that he was from 4th Century BC - he clearly didn't have the software, gear and knowledge of solar activity that we do in present day. Could anybody tell me what his misinterpretation of the sun spot was?"

"_Hey, Yao!" _Gilbert hissed, prodding the boy in the back. Yao didn't appreciate the attention, but knew better than to make a comment that he was likely to regret.  
"Yes, Gilbert?" he politely replied, keeping one eye on Ivan and the other on his bully.  
"Tell me about this Sheng guy. Come on. Help me out."  
Yao opened his mouth to speak and point out that he didn't know much either, but Gilbert continued.  
"...Besides, you're Chinese. You obviously know him."  
Yao dared frown at such a comment, utterly scandalised.

"Just because we happen to share an ethnicity does not mean that I personally know each and every Chinese born person, aru!" He suddenly shouted out, hands flying to his desk in frustration. His small brow furrowed, cheeks flushing up with the outburst and the creeping realisation that he'd embarrassed Gilbert Beilschmidt. _That was not a good move._

The class fell silent, awaiting Gilbert's next action with the hopes that a fight would ensue. Ivan's eyes widened, lips parted and ready to comfort Yao after he'd scolded the offending student.  
But Gilbert was quick to respond - he was aghast, standing to his feet to size Yao down and placing his hands on his hips. Nobody spoke back to him, and certainly not Wang Yao...the useless bottom feeder of the school with less backbone than a slug.  
"Shut your mouth, Ching-Chong!" he spat, glaring down at the boy. "You really need to g-"

"_No shouting in my classroom." _Ivan snapped at the pair, before lowering his gaze and diverting it to Gilbert. Just like on that first day, Ivan's demeanor seemed to change completely into something much darker.  
"...And you, _Beilschmidt, _should know better than to use racial slurs. _Outside." _he demanded, finger pointing towards the door.  
"But sir-"  
"_NOW!"_ Ivan roared.  
There was a brief and daring murmur of 'Oh, fuck off, Stalin' before Gilbert left the classroom and Ivan followed behind, making sure to shut the door.

The class made their best attempts to listen in, but nobody could hear what the pair were saying. Ivan's words were hushed and spoken briskly, making it impossible to understand when the door was in the way. Yao was still stunned from his previous outburst, wondering what on Earth had possessed him to be so..._bold._

Ivan returned with a bright smile and jumped straight back into his lesson as though nothing had happened. Five minutes passed and eventually Gilbert came back into the classroom. He was white as a sheet and biting harshly down on his lip.  
"I'm sorry, Yao." he spoke through gritted teeth.  
Yao was unsure of whether to be flattered or not. Ivan had obviously demanded - or threatened, he wasn't sure, for the student to apologise. But what did that mean for his safety? Gilbert was even more humiliated now, which meant that he'd have to pay afterwards.

When the lesson had finished, Ivan allowed the German boy to go. However, he requested for Yao to stay behind. Yao now knew better than to worry about it being something bad; it was a common occurrence for Ivan to hold him back when the bell had rang. It was breaktime, and he would usually have been spending it alongside Feliciano and Kiku anyway. They probably wouldn't miss him.

"Yao." Ivan spoke with a faint smile. His eyes looked tired and heavy with an uncomprehendable emotion behind them. For some reason, Yao found it very unsettling to see the violet irises laced with assumed sadness.  
"Yes, sir? Have I done something wrong? If it was about the Chinese comment I hope you understand that it's a sensitive sub-"  
"No, that isn't it." Ivan cut in, but no other words followed as he searched for more. He chewed on his lower lip a little, a light frown appearing on his smooth skin. He resembled a rabbit deep in thought. "I am thinking...about moving you to another class."

The words alone were enough to make Yao fall completely and utterly silent. He could feel his mouth drop open, his skin pale and his body shake. _Was he really that bad of a student? Was he failing? Was it his grades?  
_"M-Mr. Braginski, if it's something about my schoolwork then I'm very sorry, aru! I'll work as h-hard as I can. I promise. I thought-"  
"It isn't your grades, Yao. It isn't you. I just believe that you and I would work much better in an environment that doesn't involve the other. I feel as though our interactions as student and teacher are becoming more personal than they should."

Yao would have preferred the issue to be his grades. In fact, he would have preferred being called stupid in the face by Mr. Braginski. But not _this. _He felt utterly humiliated. Each little comment, each smile sent his way and the strange but wonderful encounters they'd shared...Ivan was merely humoring him. He probably pitied him. Poor little Wang Yao, the boy who gets bullied.

"Sir, I don't quite understand..." he murmured feebly.  
Ivan's eyes softened. He wasn't sure of what to say. He knew just how dangerous it would be to confess to the student - and what problems it would cause if Yao reacted badly. He'd lose his job, and he couldn't have that. Arthur was the one who convinced him into a better - but more expensive - life here, where his job was waiting for him alongside a home with his sisters. Money was tight at times, and it was hard to learn the language with the fluency a teacher should have, but it was his new life and he wasn't going to change or risk it.

And being a pervert would definitely cause some complications.

"Well?" Yao waited, eyes watering when his teacher didn't respond. Ivan snapped back to attention when he saw just how affected his student looked and let out a long sigh.  
"Close the door." he spoke. "It's best if we continue this in private, da?"  
The Chinese boy nodded, shutting off the door and any contact with the other students. He wasn't advised to lock it but he did so anyway, turning back to Ivan and guessing that the man was probably going to scold him for his _(was it suggestive?) _behaviour towards him during the past few weeks.

"You see, my job means very much to me. You too have moved here from another country; so you must understand just how it feels to be out of place. I am lucky to be in the circumstances that I am. However, there have been a few..._complications_ having you as a student."

Yao nodded mournfully. It must have been his fault. He must be putting too much pressure on Ivan by expecting him to save him from his bullies when the poor man was just starting out himself.

"...And I am not a lawyer, but I am sure that what I am feeling towards you is most certainly immoral. And illegal, if I act on it."  
Yao froze, finally looking back up at Ivan. His teacher looked more than uncomfortable now, refusing to meet his gaze and speaking shakily. He'd never seen the Russian in such a helpless state. And then the truth hit him like a ton of bricks. _Ivan had feelings for him. Ivan Braginski had feelings for him._

"...Which is why I'm sure you'd benefit from moving to another class. This situation not only endangers me, but you. I am sure that you'd be more than happy with another teacher."  
"No!" Yao shouted out suddenly. His words echoed throughout the empty classroom, and Ivan was completely taken aback.

"No, no! Don't move me! I..." Yao fell silent. He wasn't sure of what to say. "I...I like you, sir." he mumbled suddenly. In any other situation he'd have taken the secret to his grave; but somehow it felt fitting to confess.

Ivan didn't answer. In fact, he couldn't find any words to speak as it was impossible to form a coherent sentence in his shock.  
"This shouldn't continue." he spoke firmly. That was it. With such information he'd never be able to let Yao leave his mind.  
"You're just a teenage boy. You may think that you feel..._these things,_ but it's just a phase. It will pass eventually. Now, who would you prefer? There are only Mr. Zwingli and Mr. Hassan who are available on your schedule during the times that you usually have Astronomy. I have already checked-"  
"_Don't you get it_, aru?!" Yao suddenly shouted out. His face was bright red from a mixture of embarrassment and indigence.

Ivan fell silent. His gaze locked onto Yao's, and for a brief moment he imagined what that flustered face would look like if it was red and panting under much different circumstances. And he knew that Yao was right. He couldn't just ignore the news he'd been given. After all, what was once an innocent admiration had blossomed into a very real attraction.

"Nobody has to...find out." Yao whispered, nervously leaning forward and placing his little hand atop of Ivan's. It was warm; much warmer than he'd expected from a person whom everybody assumed to be cold.  
Ivan flinched at the touch, at the way it sent shivers up his spine. He couldn't help but smile slightly, Yao's nervousness perfectly mirrored in his own.  
"A secret?" he offered, to which the student nodded.

"Exactly. A secret."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Arthur hummed to himself as he spooned sugar into the two identical mugs for him and Francis. One was addressed for 'Him' and the other, to 'Her' in a romantic calligraphy and fitting colouring. Chuckling softly, he made a note to give the feminine edition of the cup to his partner. Francis never favoured tea anyway; he'd much prefer to produce a bottle of some high-class French wine from an unspecified region of his clothing and drink it until it was empty. Well, if Francis was going to live in the Kirkland-Jones residence, he was going to have tea. Arthur let out a sigh, spooning one more sugar than he preferred to add to the drink to compensate for Francis' sweet tooth. (Arthur firmly believed that two sugars was enough, and three was a complete atrocity).

He was finding it hard to accustom to his lover's habits. Of course, he had his quirks. Francis was never without an umbrella, he was cultured and fluent in both French and English. He'd established a friendship with Alfred that Ivan never could, and he was the most satisfying lover Arthur had ever encountered. But with the quirks came the consequences. Francis' designer clothes were constantly strewn across the floor, and when he bothered to put them away Arthur came to realise that there simply wasn't enough space to hold Francis' accessories alone, let alone his clothes and Arthur's. And then came the lingering looks and strange men who he just 'knew from somewhere.'  
He may have been a sleaze but Francis certainly wasn't a cheater - it just bugged Arthur to no end that he'd had many others before returning.

And still, Arthur put up with it all. In his eyes, Francis was worth it. What started off as a rebound from Ivan had really changed into something more.

But that didn't mean that the Frenchman didn't irritate him to no end.  
At that very moment he was ambushed from behind by said lover. Arthur squirmed away from the spontaneous embrace, from the arms that held him, the neck scented heavily with French cologne that pressed against his own and the comfortingly familiar but _incredibly ticklish _mop of styled blonde curls that grazed against his shoulders.

"Get off it, will you?" he snapped with a scowl, wriggling away.  
Francis giggled - a silly little _onhonhon _which Arthur couldn't tell whether he liked - and stepped back.  
"Still trying to get me to drink that draff, _mon minet? _Dear, dear. Well, you can pour it down the sink."  
Arthur stiffened sufficiently, flashing his partner the famous death glare.  
"I beg your pardon?" he spoke icily, clutching the silver spoon so tightly that his knuckles went white.

"I'm taking you out for dinner, mon chéri! Now put a coat on quickly because I've left the car running. What about that pink Chesterfield that I bought for you last week? It makes you look so refined, mon cher."  
Arthur had just enough time to roll his eyes and blush lightly before taking his familiarly comfortable brown blazer and leaving the house before Francis could further complain.

However, his talents of negativity matched Arthur's and he still found a chance to whine about it when the pair were driving.  
"_Arthur!_ Why do you never wear the clothes I buy for you, hm?"  
Arthur huffed, looking away. "They're not my taste, and you know it. Not everybody wants to walk around looking like a woman, you know? Now I'm completely fine with you doing so, but I think I'd rather have a pineapple inserted violently into my arse than trade my masculinity for a pink coat."

Perhaps it was a sharp remark, but it was the truth. And out of everybody, Francis knew best when it came to dealing with Arthur. It was like he'd never changed since the day Matthew died - the carefree nature was replaced with nothing but bitterness. Francis learned to love it anyway.

Eventually, the two were sitting in the restaurant and for once, Arthur wasn't disappointed. He marveled the decor, blushing lightly when he was escorted to the reserved table by the Francis and the waitress.

"Any reason for this, Frog?" he mumbled - but there was a shining in his eyes that proved Arthur was very appreciative.  
"Non, non...I just thought that you needed a little break... Alfred seems to be driving you up the wall recently. I wonder what brought this on?"  
Arthur shrugged, lifting his gaze from the menu.  
"I'm really not sure. Girlfriend troubles, maybe? His grades aren't terrible - he's been accepted onto a Mathematics trip with the school, as a matter of fact. I'm just hoping that it isn't drugs. I don't like the boy he's hanging around. Gilbert."

Francis' face lit up. "Gilbert? Oh, how I adored that boy! He used to visit the boys most evenings, didn't he? He was Mathieu's best friend, if I remember correctly. Well, it's nice to know that Alfred is still close to him."  
Arthur simply nodded, feeling rather uncomfortable on the subject of his sons. He wasn't sure why he had a deeply rooted dislike towards Gilbert, but he could only assume that it was due to his and Matthew's close friendship. It was painful to recall.

A three course meal and several drinks later, Arthur wasn't feeling any better. It was as if Matthew's name had placed a heavy weight on the evening - and as much as Francis tried to help, it wasn't working. Arthur felt worse than ever.

"Ma bichette!" he whispered desperately once he noticed that others were staring. Arthur's alcohol tolerance was that of a child's, and he was close to sobbing into his near-empty plate of tirimasu.

"...And A-Alfred never wears his glasses, and he doesn't listen to me, either!" he cried. "He can be such a brute! Who could he possibly have learnt it from? I certainly wasn't responsible, but it wasn't like he had another mother or a father to encourage a lack of manners! He never even met his mother...it was a one night stand and she didn't want to keep the babies! She just waited 9 months and then handed him and Matthew over to me, and it was so embarrassing! They'd always ask who the mother was, but I don't even like women! I'm gay! _So very gay!"_

Francis flushed bright red, wishing that Arthur would shut up. He regretted even the offer of alcohol to his lover. With an apologetic sigh, he left the payment and practically slung Arthur over his shoulder, kicking and whining, to carry him to the car.

It was going to be a long night.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Yao sat in bed with the smallest but happiest of smiles playing on his lips. He had Mr. Braginski's _phone number. _And what a chain of events had led to such a thing!

He never expected his frightening, yet (supposedly) gentle giant of a teacher would ever take an interest in him. He knew that such a thing was dangerous but it made him swell up with pride. _Ivan Braginski was actually interested in him._ He let out another excited squeal, holding tightly to his phone and wondering if he should text the man, or if it was too soon.

That was another issue. Yao was certainly _aware o_f what dating was, but he'd never done it himself. Ever since he was a child he'd been fascinated with members of the same sex, and he could even recall taking a mild liking to his father's work partner at the age of 11. There was something about girls that just didn't interest him at all. When Kiku was blushing and mumbling in the presence of females, Yao was completely indifferent. Where everybody else was educated about sexual things when they became teenagers, Yao was still utterly confused as to how it would work _for him,_ considering he was gay. He simply mumbled along and pretended that he was in the know. He hoped that - if a relationship between him and Ivan ever happened - he wouldn't make a fool of himself. Which raised the question, was Ivan interested at all, or was it a lie?

But the buzz of his little red phone made him jump and blush once more.

**Message: Sent at 23:01**

Ivan Braginski

_Hello Yao! ^_^ xxxxxxxxx_

'Was he being serious?' Yao couldn't help but think. 'Was this really Ivan, texting like a child?'

**Message: Sent at 23:03**

Yao-Yao

Is this you, Ivan?

**Message: Sent at 23:06**

Ivan Braginski

Of course! Did I wake you up? Sorry! xxxxxxxxxxx

Typing like a teenage girl with lines of kisses and emoticons. Ivan was surprising him more and more each day.

**Author's Note!**

I'm sorry it took so long to update! Wow, I kept putting off writing this chapter because I wasn't sure how I wanted it to go...Well, I hope it was okay!  
Please leave feedback, it means so much!

A few questions: So what do you think on the Ivan-Yao front? Did it happen too soon/slowly? (Will Yao ever be able to cope with the way Ivan texts?) I hope I gave a good explanation as to how Matthew and Alfred are twins, yet Arthur is gay.

Long story short, Arthur had a one-night stand to a woman (_to his dismay) _who became pregnant with the twins. She didn't want the babies, but she didn't want an abortion either, and Arthur was more than happy to be their parent. She had the children and put them into the sole care of Arthur. (What a sweetie.)

And on the Matthew front; what happened to him will eventually be revealed, too.

I hope you enjoyed reading! In other news; my next update for Disobedience (Free! Omegaverse) will be within the week, and so will Sunflower Syndrome Reworked.


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